The Arrogance of Man
by Snarkland78
Summary: A cop needs House's help with a serial killer. Can she catch the killer before she kills House?
1. Prologue

**I wrote this several years ago for the OC FanFic Contest but am just now getting around to posting it here. **

**I also wrote a sequel, which I will post after this one.**

**PROLOGUE:**

Male hands caressed her creamy-white throat as her soft moans filled the air, increasing the electricity in the already electrically-charged room. His delicate feather-light strokes along her clavicle intensified her desire. "You are so beautiful," his murmured endearment, and hot breath, sent chills down her spine. She tried to turn around, to face her new lover (they'd only met that night…he'd been so sweet to her all night) but he kept a firm hold on her from behind. She really didn't care: he felt oh so good.

This sort of thing just didn't happen to her. After all, she was calm, rational and analytical, constantly thinking and rethinking relationships and situations. Casual relationships just weren't her "thing", so this one-night-stand-thingy was huge.

The hazy mixture of wonderment and lust currently consuming her was too absolutely, insanely, astronomically mind-blowing to think about once, forget twice. She really should've stopped all rational thought years ago. Look at what she'd been missing!

Unfortunately she picked the wrong day to stop thinking.

So lost in this newfound freedom she failed to notice the tightening of his hands around her neck.

At first.

Then haze evaporated as quickly as it had formed, along with her ability to breathe. She gasped and tried to scream. But the man kept squeezing.

Tighter.

Tighter.

Tighter still, until, with the quiet, quick precision of a man who'd done this so many times before, she was dead, slumped across her living room sofa. It had ended as quickly as it began.

Confirming her demise, he quickly and purposefully left the house, returning with the small Army camouflage duffle bag he'd hidden in her front bushes just a few hours before. He knew he wouldn't have been seen then. After all, the rest of the neighborhood was away, earning mediocre salaries at meaningless, deadbeat jobs.

Returning to the scene of the crime, he pulled out a plastic bag. Lifting her slack body, he chuckled wickedly as he stuffed a chicken bone down her throat. After retrieving a dinner plate from the obsessively clean kitchen, he arranged the rest of the food on the plate and finished his set-up, wanting the average observer to believe she had died from choking on dinner. He knew what he was doing and was very thorough; after all, he'd watched her, followed her, studied her patterns to learn her daily routines; he knew what she ate and even the most private details of her life.

_Because_ he knew she was a devout vegan, he used chicken as the supposed murder weapon. After 26 – now 27 – murders without even so much as an inkling of him possibly being the murderer, he'd become excessively smug. He'd "casually slipped up" with each successive murder, revealing more and more "clues" about himself, his habits…and his insanity. These arrogant actions were rationalized, in his mind, as "helping" the police; after all, he felt pity for them – they were trying to catch HIM, the _Definitive_ Serial Killer. Aww…those nice detectives down at the precinct really were trying so hard to catch him. But he was smarter.

And he was good, very good.

He would do it again and again...and he believed they'd never catch him.


	2. Chapter 1

"White female; age 25; fully clothed; dinner plate found next to the body. She was eating…" a female voice studied the contents of the plate. "…chicken legs and mashed potatoes."

"Connie, we've got something in the victim's throat…" her assistant carefully extracted what looked to be the instrument of death. "…she was choking. It looks like her death was an accident."

"Are you sure?" Another female voice cut through the din. Lieutenant Gabrielle Newsome strode into the room and the assistant, who'd only been on this job a grand total of 2 hours, was surprised everyone stopped what they were doing to acknowledge her. After all, away from work, this male assistant wouldn't have given her the time of day. Gabrielle wasn't striking: at 5'5" she didn't have a commanding presence and she certainly wasn't society's definition of beautiful.

Gabrielle never gave much thought to her appearance, which explained why her peaches-and-cream complexion wore little makeup; why her honey-brown naturally but loosely-curled hair was shiny but never styled; and why her attractive figure was usually covered in suits or sweaters, like the long-sleeved pink sweater over a white cotton oxford shirt and black pencil skirt with no nylons she wore that night. Most people simply considered her…average. As a matter of fact, most usually swore, on first seeing her, that she was the office secretary.

Behind this plain façade was a brilliant and very active mind. Full of street-smarts and a very quick, wicked wit, this police officer always got her man. Having successfully solved 50 murder cases in the past 3 years, she was any commanding officer's dream come true, which was why she was stolen from Homicide and given a high-ranking position in the Special Cases unit. Not only did it mean a significant hike in rank and pay but, more importantly, it meant a crack at more juicy, challenging cases.

This "brilliant cop" life didn't mean Gabrielle was Attila the Hun either. Her feminine, soft-spoken side, when coupled with her cop mentality, made her a walking contradiction to everyone she met, especially men.

So, at 35, she was still single.

"Why do you say that?" The very green, very impertinent male assistant smugly asked her, not realizing she was very much his superior. Amongst the gasping of those who already knew her, Gabrielle's gaze went from the body to the assistant. She was humble, usually letting impertinence roll off her back…but she wasn't about to let this one go.

She pointed a latex-gloved finger at the neck of the body. "Notice the finger-shaped bruising around the neck and the expression on her face. That's hardly a face of a choking person. It's fright." She studied the victim's evening attire. "She's very well-dressed, like she'd come home from a date or a special event. It's doubtful that, while still wearing her evening wear, she'd grab a plate of messy food and not change. See the coat?" She pointed to the rumbled designer coat on the floor. "Her house is immaculate. She's not going to just leave her designer jacket crumpled on the floor. Someone was here with her." She tilted her head at the chicken bone in the evidence bag dangling from the man's hand. "And finally, the chicken bone itself."

He was growing impatient with this woman whom he still assumed was just another assistant. "And what about it?"

Gabrielle, growing very impatient herself, held up a clear, rather heavy evidence bag. "Do you know what this is, Mister…?"

"White."

"Mr. White, this is a plaque from a national Vegan organization. This victim…" she turned the plaque around to read it, "Jennifer Jenkins," she turned it back around, making sure he could perfectly read the words etched in stone, "was a national charter member of a devoutly Vegan organization. This wasn't her dinner and she didn't choke on this. She was murdered BEFORE the chicken bone. It was an attempted plant to hide the murder and a degradation of the victim." Gabrielle tilted her head and smirked as Mr. White shrank from her. "I'm Lieutenant Gabrielle Newsome." She paused and turned on a fake-sweet charm. "It was a PLEASURE meeting you."

Turning away from the scene, she stepped into another room. Flipping open her phone, she dialed her superiors. "Hey, Jerry, it's Gabrielle. Listen, the victim on Florence Lane isn't a random accident. It was murder."

Jerry hesitated, wondering why she woke him in the middle of the night for a murder. Murder happened all the time. "Ok…it was murder. So why did you call me at…" he looked at the bedside clock and groaned. "…12:15 in the a.m. to tell me we have another murder?"

Gabrielle's tone grew very serious. "I think it's another East Side Strangler victim." GASP, then silence on the other end. "I may be new to the Special Cases Unit but I've been working on the East Side Strangler cases for the past five years, long after he'd started his killing spree. I've been indoctrinated by this guy; I know how he murders. And he's leaving more evidence.

When he first killed, he was so thorough it took several years for anyone to even realize they WERE murders. But, as he continues to kill, he's leaving more and more evidence of the kill behind. It's arrogance; he wants us to know they're murders. And he wants us to know they're his. One other thing…" she paused and motioned to a nearby forensic detective who was coming towards her with what looked to be test results. "…we found more of the same type of bodily fluid he uses at every crime scene. Jerry, it's getting, I don't know, more bizarre. The very preliminary field tests done on the scene show that the fluid has changed once again. And it's not the crime scene environment changing it; it's what the fluid is made of. What's always been puzzling, in the 12 years this guy's been killing, is there's absolutely no reason for the fluid in the first place. It's a calling card, somehow…we just don't know what it is; why it's here; and who left it."

Jerry was silent for a moment. "Upper Brass has been thinking about bringing in outside, expert help with this, someone who hasn't worked with us before. Everyone agrees it's absolutely vital to pin down the source of those biological stains. If we can find just one significant, unique characteristic we could nail this psycho." He paused then smiled coyly from his side of the telephone. He only smiled like that when the idea he suddenly had turned out to be completely brilliant. "You know, my wife's best friend is the Dean of Medicine at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. It's widely known they have the best diagnostic department in the entire East Coast, if not the nation. According to the Dean, they have the "Sherlock Holmes of the Medical World", a Doctor House. He's renowned for solving the medical cases no one else can solve. We need to consult him. ASAP. Call her tomorrow."

"Ok, I'm on it. Who is the Dean?"

"Dr. Lisa Cuddy. She'll set you up with the diagnostic department."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Jimmy!" A gruff voice echoed through a doorway at the handsome doctor passing by. Jimmy sighed and stopped outside the office to find a mini-television sitting on the desk, blaring incomprehensible jargon. Jimmy rolled his eyes.

"I see you're working hard. What can I possibly do to alleviate the heavy burden that is work?"

Dr. Gregory House threw Dr. James "Jimmy" Wilson his famous "Oh, you're so gonna love this!" smirk and waved Wilson in with his cane. "Doctor Wilson, I had no idea your Ex #2 was a television star! Take a look: why'd you never tell me? You old dog; you certainly are a man of mystery." House's words dripped with sarcasm as he grinned like a 5-year-old hiding a frog behind his back, just waiting for the right moment to spring it on his unsuspecting victim. Wilson came around to get a better look at the television. What he saw was a dead fish on ice.

"The Fishing Channel?!?!" Wilson was amazed. Quickly seeing where House was going with this, Wilson chuckled. "For once, House, I actually agree with you. She was a cold fish."

House opened his mouth to snark back when the CLOP, CLOP, CLOP of severe high heels on linoleum stopped him. House didn't bother looking up; he knew who it was. "Cuddy, my sex goddess! How…OOOWWWW!" House shrieked dramatically when Wilson jabbed him with his elbow. Looking up, House saw that Cuddy wasn't alone: an average-looking woman was standing right next to her. Normally he simply would've ignored someone as…plain…as she was but she compelled him somehow; something in her eyes told him she wasn't plain at all. Instantly intrigued, he saw her brain working, digesting the scene in front of her. He also saw how guarded she was, like she was ready for whatever he'd throw her way. _'Cuddy must've warned her,'_ House thought. With the blatant audacity that was House, his eyes roamed her body anyway, never missing a chance to openly ogle a member of the opposite sex. What he found surprised and impressed him: the gentle swell of hips under the tan skirt; the softness of honey brown curls; the generous amount of breasts. Leaning forward in his chair House smirked. After all, he simply couldn't let this golden opportunity pass:

"Why Dr. Cuddy, I told you I'm no common gigolo; I don't service just anyone. I'm very exclusive and expensive." He shrugged, sighed with resignation and leered at the woman. "But, since you are here, I might as well make all your dreams come true because," he winked and Wilson rolled his eyes once again, "you'll never find one as good as me. How can I service you Sweetheart?" And this was how he judged every female he met, regardless of the nature of their relationship. She needed to pass the snark test.

It worked like this: if the woman rolled her eyes but didn't say anything smart in return she was both stupid and self-righteous; if she looked shocked she was just self-righteous. But if she used body language and the right words then she'd be quite the lethal weapon. And he'd be completely interested.

House was still studying the "Plain Jane" as she tilted her head to the side and quirked her lip. Her face suddenly changed to one of mock obliviousness. "Service me? What am I, a Buick?" She looked around. "When did we get to Jiffy Lube?"

He smirked and leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the desk. _'Not bad. Good start. Let's see how she finishes this one.'_ He began twirling the cane. "This is your lucky day. I give great lube jobs."

It was her turn to smirk. "And I bet you're the quickest in town. Your sign probably reads 'Complete Satisfaction in less than Five Minutes or Your Money Back. Guaranteed.'"

'_That's better.'_

He smirked wider. "Yeah, my clients hate that rule. After all, I can, and usually, go all night. I can make a fortune in one night, like the time I serviced that Quilting Club from Des Moines. Those old broads could do these amazing things with their…"

Cuddy held up her hand and cleared her throat just before he went into detail. "Zip it Casanova, your mouth and your pants. This is Lieutenant Gabrielle Newsome of the Princeton Police Department. Lieutenant, this is Dr. Gregory House, eminent diagnostician and royal pain in the butt."

Gabrielle smiled and leaned across the desk, extending her hand. House simply regarded it with a raised eyebrow. She winked and said, "A thrill."

"And I'm Dr. James Wilson, Head of Oncology," Wilson smiled brilliantly and ecstatically extended his hand. Gabrielle gave him a sincere smile. "What brings you to our happy home?"

Gabrielle turned to House who was sitting back, taking in the view. In the short minutes since her arrival, she'd intrigued him; specifically, how a woman of such brains could be cursed with such plain looks.

Now, Gabrielle was a very intelligent woman who knew when she had someone's attention. And she had House's. "I'm investigating the East Side Strangler. I'm sure you've heard of him." she began and set her briefcase down on top of House's yo-yo. This upset him.

"Hey, watch it!" He growled and yanked the toy from under its confinement.

She delicately laid her hand on her chest, a gesture certainly not missed by either male doctor. "Oh, I'm sorry. Have I interrupted recess? Would you like me to leave so you can finish your tetherball match?"

"Yeah, I was winning," House muttered, moving his toys.

Unzipping the briefcase, Gabrielle pulled out the case files and methodically began laying them out, including pictures of the fluid stains and test results, in order of occurrence. Coming around to House's side of the desk, she sat on the corner and slowly crossed her bare legs, yet another gesture missed by neither man. "These are the victims, 27 in all, with the first taking place 12 years ago, in May 1995. The very presence of bodily fluid is odd: none of the victims were raped, stabbed or punctured. They hadn't even spit up. The fluid isn't blood and, at first, it was clear. As he continued to kill," Gabrielle pointed to the series of photos, the fluid in some easy to see, others very difficult given the color of the surroundings, "the fluid began changing so that now…" Gabrielle leaned across the desk, giving House an amazing view down her collared shirt, an opportunity he absolutely, and unequivocally, seized. Ignoring him, Gabrielle sat back up and pointed to the photo of the most recent victim's, Jennifer Jenkins, crime scene. "…it constitutes several types of bodily fluid, including dialysis and synovial fluids."

That caught House's attention. Sitting up straight, he threw her a "You can't be serious?" look. "You're joking, right? Dialysis fluid? As in, fluid used for kidney dialysis?" Gabrielle nodded. "And synovial fluid, the fluid found in human joints? That fluid never leaves the body. You can't be serious. It's just not possible. Your people are idiots. You've screwed the pooch big time with this one."

Gabrielle's eyebrow quirked. "Really? That's rich, coming from a doctor who spends all his time watching television and playing with toys." His mouth opened to snark back but she threw a large manila envelope at him. "These are samples of fluid from each of the 27 murders." She scooped up the test results and gave them to Wilson. "If you want to TRY to prove us wrong, retest each sample and compare with the results here. When I'm proven RIGHT, I'll be back and we'll talk some more." Gabrielle scooped up the photos and neatly returned them to the briefcase. Looking up, she smiled, only to find Wilson staring at her, openmouthed, and Cuddy challenging House with her defiant eyes.

And House? Well, naturally he was appalled. A man who resists any sort of authority because he always knows he's right was being told what to do by a woman…and she wasn't even hot! But at that moment she had his complete and undivided attention.

Gabrielle stood up, smoothed her skirt and stuck her hand out again. This time House didn't ignore it. With a fierce but completely intrigued scowl, he shook her hand. Suddenly feeling the need to save face (or, the very least, his manhood), he smiled brightly. "See? My lube jobs are quick but very satisfying."

She smiled, a genuine smile, at House for the first time since they met, then looked at her watch and, pointing at it, held it up for him to see. "It actually took 10 minutes. I timed it. Do I get my money back?" He didn't comment but his eyes told her he was enjoying this. She paused, quirking her head and clicking her tongue. "Because I see you're a "quantity and not quality" type of guy, I must tell you that my lube job was nowhere NEAR satisfying; in fact, it sucked." Gabrielle sighed. "I mean, really, how good can you be in less than 5 minutes if your 10-minute job was terrible? I guess some people are willing to settle and only take what they can get." Wilson's jaw dropped at this.

House didn't quite know what to say to this. He didn't expect her to be so quick on the draw. Oh, he knew she wasn't being personal; she was just doing what he'd do. Letting that "quantity and not quality" comment go, House figured the poor woman's gonna need all the dignity she could muster when he proves her tests results are wrong. "I guess, since you aren't satisfied, your next visit is free." He looked up and into her eyes.

She grinned again as she said, "You seem so sure there will be a next time." And, with a quick nod of her head, spun on her sensible heel and walked out the door, Cuddy following closely behind.

Poor Wilson. He wasn't quite sure what he just witnessed but, whatever it was, it was…groundbreaking. He didn't know how; he just knew it was. He turned to ask House what that was but stopped at House's "I'm thinking: don't interrupt" face. With a short nod to himself, Dr. James Wilson walked out the door knowing history had just been made…and that he was a part of it.

*****

"How often do you need to come by?" Cuddy asked as they arrived at the elevators.

"Jerry wants me to keep on top of this. There are just so many types of victims: all races, sexual orientation and physical attributes, that there's nothing in common among these women except that they are just that…women." Gabrielle sighed and they stepped onto the elevator. When the doors closed she looked at Cuddy. "Is Dr. House really that aggravating?"

Cuddy smirked. "No," she paused and Gabrielle quietly sighed with relief. "He's usually worse. You either caught him on a good day or he was full from lunch and soaps. He hates authority and will not cooperate if it contradicts him. Even if he does agree you won't know it. He'll fight you tooth and nail. But..." Cuddy paused. "…he's the best man for the job. Dr. House is incredibly gifted and knows diagnosing inside and out. He's your man. Just don't let him get to you. I've seen the best of people break under the House pressure. You know your stuff. It will certainly help your cause."

They stepped off the elevators and walked to the front door of the hospital, where Cuddy momentarily stopped Gabrielle. "I hope you don't mind a personal question," Cuddy began. Gabrielle shook her head. "Not at all. Lay it on me."

"Are you married?" Gabrielle had a feeling she knew where this was going. "Nope."

Cuddy looked at the landing above them. House stood there, watching them and tapping his cane. Gabrielle turned, grinned and finger-waved; he responded by tilting his head, curtsying and limping away.

Gabrielle's mouth dropped as she pointed up to the now vacant landing. "Did he just curtsy us?"

Cuddy snorted with repressed laughter. "Yep. Back in the office, I wasn't sure if what I'm about to warn you of is relevant; now, I know it is. It would be in everyone's best interest that you and House not start dating. The hospital would be a living hell should his personal life take a turn for the worst…and it can't get any worse than it is now."

Gabrielle turned to Cuddy in shock. "Where did this come from? Dr. House is annoying, rude and selfish. Besides, I'm here to solve my case and go home. Now is hardly the time for a hookup." _'Words are only words,'_ she reluctantly told herself. She could see Cuddy didn't believe her, just as much as she didn't believe herself. _'Oh no,'_ she thought again. _'This could be interesting: very, very interesting.'_

For the first time in a very long time, Cuddy saw something in House: genuine interest in a woman, and not just for a booty call, either. No, she saw something deeper. Dr. Lisa Cuddy was just afraid of the likely outcome…and how it would negatively affect her hospital.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Son of a…" a gruff snarl cut through the morning stillness of the laboratory as the source of which poured over the fluid samples Gabrielle had given him the previous day. His concentration was so intense he failed to detect the soft-shoed steps approaching the doorway.

"Rhinoceros? Elephant? Pygmy goat?" Wilson asked, wearing an amused smirk. He knew why House was upset: he was being proven wrong. This made Wilson a very happy camper. He loved seeing House proven wrong, as long as it didn't hurt anyone else. In this case, it only hurt House.

"Was she right?"

House's grumbling answered his question. Having gotten THAT out of the way, House face palmed. "I was so sure they were wrong; it's the only way to explain these readings. They don't make sense. They CAN'T be right. See here…" House held his results in his right hand, which were identical to Gabrielle's in his left hand. "…in the first murder, in May 1995, the fluid was a saline solution mixed with tears. TEARS! What'd the guy do, cry in his placebo?" House paused and flipped through some more papers. "And here, here, and here," holding them up, "he left the same mixture at four of the succeeding murders. Then, at murder #6, in 1996, the fluid changed to the same mixture PLUS vomit. What is this stuff?" House paused and rubbed his stubble.

"It's odd because, for the first 26 murders, the fluid was a mixture of simple bodily fluid…and there's NOTHING unique about the vomit, tears or urine, which began showing up at murder 14: not one chemical imbalance; not one imperfection; not even a trace of alcohol or drugs. He's leaving the PERFECT specimen. We can't tell who he is. However…" Wilson was happy, but at the same time rather freaked out, at the dedication in House's work habits, something he hadn't seen in a very long time. This was one intriguing mystery that finally had all of House's attention. "…for this most recent murder, synovial and dialysis fluid showed up. Where did this come from?"

Wilson stood and headed to the door. "I'm hungry. Let's grab a bite to eat."

"I'm working."

"I know…and it's freaking me out. Come on…" Wilson lowered his voice conspiratorially. "…and I'll buy."

House stood up, grabbed his cane and hobbled over to him. "Ok, fine. The things I give up for YOU." Rolling his eyes he yelled, "Race you to the elevators."

*****

When Wilson and House arrived in the cafeteria, House suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in mock indignation. Without turning to Wilson but clearly addressing him, House groaned. "This was a trick to get me to talk with Little Miss Plain Jane over there, wasn't it?" He pointed his cane at where Gabrielle was eating alone, reading a case file. Upon closer inspection, House rather reluctantly realized she wasn't quite so Plain Jane either: the brown-and-rose modestly-low-cut sweater with brown pants and rose pumps suited her honey brown curls very nicely. Wilson grinned and started walking over there.

"Where are you going? Get back here. I want my food." House whined but followed him like a puppy that really didn't want to go but couldn't stop himself.

"Lieutenant Newsome?" Wilson flashed his signature grin and she looked up. Upon seeing the Hardy Boys standing there, she smiled and removed her glasses. Wilson looked down at what she was doing. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Gabrielle stood and the Boys got an even more impressive view…not lost on either of them. She pointed to the food line. "I hear they serve a mean piece of toast around here." Wilson chuckled and House, not about to show any semblance of humor, frowned.

House had to defend himself against the attack that hadn't yet come but knew WAS coming. After all, he did have his male pride. "I bet you came to gloat."

Gabrielle's eyebrow went up. "Does that mean we were actually RIGHT?" She sarcastically taunted, her wide mouth smirking and arms folded in front of her.

She knew how her movements were affecting both doctors. After all, Dr. Wilson couldn't exactly hide his interest in women and Gabrielle already knew exactly how to handle men like House. She dealt with his kind all the time.

However, he was the first of his kind to affect her the way he did. From their very first sparring match, she'd found herself giving him every single one of her thoughts. That physique didn't hurt either: 6'3"; lanky (just the way she liked them) build; incredible blue eyes.

Or perhaps it was that personality. If House hadn't had such a wicked sense of humor she'd have been eternally grateful to have absolutely no interest in him. Unfortunately for her, he did…and she was very interested, now matter how she tried to convince herself otherwise.

She was never one to daydream but lately her mind would wander, right in the middle of everything. Sighing and mentally slapping herself, she dropped her smile and sat back down again, pulling her glasses back on. "Do you really want to know why I'm here?"

House smirked. "I'm on the edge of my seat."

It was her turn to smirk. "I'm sure." She pointed to the available seats at her table. "I think you can help us catch him."

At this he was surprised. After all, it wasn't his job. He already had one. "I already have a job. Someone's got to, in an annoyingly sarcastic manner, constantly remind Cuddy her shirt is too low, her skirt too tight. If I weren't around to do that…"

"The hospital would be at peace and she'd still dress that way," Wilson said, eliciting a snicker from Gabrielle and an eye roll from House.

Gabrielle recovered quickly. "The more this psycho kills, the more arrogant he becomes. I figured you'd be the perfect consultant. After all, both you and this psycho are so arrogant I'm amazed each of your inflated heads fit through doorways."

House narrowed his eyes. "Are you comparing me with this serial killer?"

She looked into the distance, thought a moment, tilted her head, turned back to House and nodded. "Yeah, I guess I am." His eyes grew a very dark blue, stormy and angry at the comparison. "Oh, I don't mean you're the SAME crazy as he is, though I've only known you a short time. For all I know you could be crazy like he is, only you're obnoxious and immature.

For instance, you probably like using off-the-wall medical procedures just to watch your patients squirm, like a pre-teen future serial killer who watches his family pet being tortured to death by his own hands." She shrugged and studied him, then quirked her top lip up. "Or perhaps you break into Dr. Cuddy's house to raid her panty drawer, just like a serial killer does to take mementos from his victims. You've never done anything crazy like this, have you?" She looked up at him, sincerely inquisitive. This left both men speechless.

Wilson finally found his voice. "Good grief, House. From what she's saying, you're supposed to be a serial killer. Why aren't you?"

House just rolled his eyes. "It's on my to-do list. I still have snowboarding" (he ticked each activity off his fingers) "pole dancing, naked bungee jumping and sex-on-a-lawnmower to accomplish _before_ serial killing. Now just drop it."

"Just out of curiosity," Gabrielle leaned forward. "Would the lawnmower be moving? And is it a push mower or a John Deere?"

He rolled his eyes in a very "Well, DUH!" fashion. "John Deere and moving."

"Oh, that's the best way!" Gabrielle tartly said. "You'll love it: John Deere's have these extra-wide seats so you have plenty of room to move without falling off the sides. The whole experience is like having sex on a motorcycle: it's all about balance and the proper lubrication."

Even House choked on that one.

Gabrielle smiled then considered House. "Seriously, you could be a great asset to our team. What do you say?"

"Yeah, House, what do you say?" Wilson parroted back.

After shooting Wilson a death glance (at which Wilson just smirked broadly), House turned back to Gabrielle. "Oh…what the hell. I really don't have anything better to do."

"There are only so many tetherball matches you can play against yourself, isn't there?" Gabrielle snarked as she began clearing her table. She stopped and looked at House who'd been watching her clean up, a scowl at the weird turn that conversation took. "Come by the Precinct tonight, after you get off work."

He shook his head resolutely. "Absolutely not. I don't do police stations. They're full of cops."

"Yes…" she slowly agreed, nodding her head. "That's usually how it works. I'll spring for pizza…" Gabrielle saw he was starting to relent and added, with a heavy sigh and eye-roll to the ceiling, "…and you got any unpaid parking tickets?" His eyes brightened with this. "I'll see what I can do. 6:00?"

"Well…when you put THAT way…" he sighed heavily, almost as if this was a huge burden, one so big a magnitude a man like himself couldn't possibly bear it. "I guess I'll be there."

"Wow, Dr. House, I feel honored," she spat out. "I'll wear my best waistcoat for the occasion." Gabrielle packed her briefcase and stood up. "And don't be late. After all, it is a police station. I'll just have you picked up." She looked at his cane. "It should be easy. It's not like you can run from us."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Well, lookie what the cat dragged in," Gabrielle exclaimed when House walked in at, surprisingly, 6:00 on the nose. "I thought, for sure, we'd have to send out a search party."

"I'm disappointed," his tone hardly matched his words. "You've known me all of…" he looked at his watch. "…36 hours and you just NOW insult me? I usually know someone 10 minutes before they offend me, or at least TRY to."

"I'm pacing myself, saving up some really big zingers for when you least expect it."

House was right: he only knew Gabrielle 36 hours. He just didn't realize how much he wanted to take her, right there and then. _'It's gotta be my serious lack of nookie lately. I mean, look at her. I can have any woman I want…and I want…that?!?'_

He didn't know she was pretty much thinking the same thing: _'What in the world is wrong with me? This guy's obviously all wrong for me. I need to get out more.'_ Clearing her throat, Gabrielle motioned towards her office, a glass-walled cube with broken blinds that only worked half the time. They settled down to pizza as Gabrielle began explaining the cases, one by one. She knew it was important that House have all the facts; she also assumed that, like investigators, diagnostics required as much detailed information as possible.

Two hours later, the pizza was long gone; most of the precinct had gone home; and House and Gabrielle were still brainstorming. House was completely engrossed which turned Gabrielle on, especially as she watched his thought process. In a last-ditch effort to mentally save her dignity, she asked, "So, given all the facts, how would YOU describe the murderer? What type of person is he…or she?"

House grinned, twirling his cane. His sky-blue eyes evaluated her. "You're just asking so you can get into my pants, aren't you? I saw you drooling. You so want me."

Gabrielle shot him a blank stare. "What on earth are you talking about?"

He watched her but, as she failed to even twitch an eyebrow, decided to let the subject drop…for now. He may be done chewing on this bone for the time being but he'll be back for more...very soon.

Much to Gabrielle's relief, her desk phone rang. "Gabrielle?" It was Jerry. "We got another dead body. The M.O. is the same as The East Side Strangler, except its worse. Gabrielle…" he paused then sighed. "…the victim was raped."

She paused and her jaw tightened. "Ok Jerry. I'll be there." Hanging up the phone, she stared at the receiver for a moment as her internal hatred for this madman seethed and churned in her pizza-filled stomach. House immediately sensed her sudden shift in mood.

Gabrielle stood up and grabbed her coat. "What's wrong?" House asked as his need to snark went out the window with her stormy face.

"There's another victim. This one was raped." She started toward the door then stopped. After a few beats she turned back to House. "Wanna see a real crime scene?" She gave him a tiny smile. "As long as you behave and keep your cane to yourself."

House's face was quite serious but her tiny smile brought out his own little smirk. "Bummer. Well, alright, if I HAVE to…" His actions certainly didn't match his words. He shot up, as quickly as a man with a cane could, and followed after her. This was an awesome chance for him. Besides, he definitely wouldn't miss a chance to see her work.

If she was as brilliant in the field as she was in the office, he was royally screwed…and a complete goner. He just wasn't ready for that to happen.


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

Twenty minutes later the two arrived at an exclusive gated community. Flashing her badge, Gabrielle and House ducked under the yellow crime scene tape and slowly walked up the long, cobblestone walkway, taking in the swarm of crime scene investigators, photographers and cops. In the background, the press shouted questions from the sidelines; worried neighbors and anxious spectators pushed against junior officers, all vying for a better look; and huge floodlights illuminated an otherwise black night.

Stepping inside the posh house, they navigated their way through the throng of officials until they saw the body. Jerry, a heavy-set, tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a pock-marked complexion, turned at Gabrielle's "Jerry? What are you doing here?"

He studied her and his eyebrows knotted at the steely, black blankness in her usually sunny blue eyes. "I wanted to be here since the killer has changed his M.O." He tilted his head when he saw House. "Who's this?"

Gabrielle's eyes momentarily lost their steely blackness and inadvertently took on a slightly tender look. "Dr. Gregory House, the medical consultant from Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital."

Jerry knew all about him from his wife, who, in turn, was "dumped" on by poor Dr. Cuddy. "Ah, the infamous Dr. House. I've heard so much about you."

At that point, House couldn't care one whit about what Jerry knew about him. He was more intrigued why Lieutenant Gabrielle Newsome seemed to take this rape so personally. Deep in thought, he ignored Jerry's statement and looked at the body. She was completely nude and posed in a horrifically graphic manner. The faint tears forming in the corners of Gabrielle's eyes as she walked around the body weren't lost on either Jerry or House. Before Gabrielle got too involved, Jerry handed her some evidence bags. "These need to be processed. Please give them to Andy. He's in the kitchen."

Gabrielle looked shocked and appalled. "Excuse me? What about…"

"Please? And get me some updates on the team searching around the house. We need to hope, however unlikely, this guy got sloppy and dumped something he shouldn't have." She sighed but did what she was told. Once she left, Jerry was still looking in her direction, deep in thought, when he sighed himself. "She's not taking this very well."

House, who'd also been watching Gabrielle, was now consumed by curiosity. "What do you mean?"

Jerry looked at him and, seeing an earnestness he wholly didn't expect to see from, as Dr. Cuddy put it, "The Man Who Puts the 'Ass' in 'Ass' ", he inexplicably felt he could trust House with the answer. "Gabrielle was raped."

An ire House never expected to feel arose within him. "What happened?"

"Ten years ago she was at the grocery store, 8:00 at night. She was walking to her car, which was parked close-by and underneath a light. The perp came out of nowhere, bound and gagged her, then dragged her to his car." Jerry paused, taking deep breaths to compose the anger that still lingered. "She was found a half-mile away, in a football field of the local high school…by me. I'd just gotten to the field to walk my dog on the track when I came upon her. She was unconscious and the rape was very evident. As a result, Gabrielle and my family became very close friends and I helped her get into law enforcement. She's a brilliant detective and has worked very hard for what she has."

House looked at him seriously. "Why are you telling me this?"

Jerry smiled. "I saw how you were watching her. She intrigues you; you can't help it." He let his eyes roam House's face. "She's certainly not your type...but she's smart. Just watch her work." His smile grew to a grin. Turning to the closest junior officer he could find, he said, "Bring Lieutenant Newsome here." Looking back at the body, he asked House, "Judging from what you see here, what happened? What can you tell me about the perpetrator?"

House momentarily forgot the seething vomit in his throat and studied the grotesqueness on the floor. "This is completely new for the killer. I've seen the crime scene photos from each murder and they all shared the same characteristics. I would say this isn't even the same murderer."

"Oh but it is," Gabrielle said, standing behind them, peering at the body. "The finger marks on the neck are the same." She paused and smiled at House. "You are so wrong. You completely suck at this."

House rolled his eyes. "Well, excuuuuse me. That's what you get when you ask a jock to do your homework…absolute crap."

She smiled and turned to back to Jerry. "And we found more fluid; it's the same consistency as the last murder, except it has a trace amount of pleural fluid."

"What?!?! You can't be serious," Now House was pissed off. "Fluid from the lungs?!?! Who is this guy?? And what's with the fluid?"

"Well, Einstein, that's why YOU'RE here. And just standing there, asking questions in a loud, angry, obnoxiously ignorant way isn't going to get it done." Gabrielle turned back to the body, which, by that time, was being strapped into a gurney.

The EMT was just about to pull the sheet over her head when House called, "WAIT!" House hobbled over to the body and pulled back the gurney sheet. Holding it up by the wrist, he showed it to them. "She scratched him. We've got DNA."

**Chapter 5**

The next mid-morning (since House never came in before 10:00), House sprang into the office (yep…SPRANG), his steps sprightly and vigorous. He felt good: he'd proven himself to Gabrielle.

And she'd irrevocably proven herself to him.

The slight smile he wore as he limped by Cuddy's office certainly caught her attention, as well as everyone else in that hospital lobby. "House?!?!" Cuddy's question was apprehensive as she approached him, eyebrow raised, as he stood by the elevators. "How are you today?"

"Just peachy keen jelly bean. Speaking of round, yummy objects…" he peeked down the front of her top, a feat not too difficult considering she wore her necklines to her knees. He'd say the reason she wore them was that she was begging people to look, as if to confirm her allure as a woman or something. "…those breasts look scrumptious enough to nibble on. Have you been doing your chest exercises like I've envisioned...I mean, instructed?" He smirked and pressed the up button once again with his cane.

Now Cuddy was worried…very worried. He was…well…GLOWING. "Who are you and what've you done with House?"

"He's here and he ain't eva gonna leave."

Cuddy groaned at the thought as the elevator opened. House winked at Cuddy and clicked his tongue as the doors closed. _'It's gonna be a good day.'_ He thought. Not only had the previous night ended well but Gabrielle had promised to get back to him with the DNA results as soon as possible. Honestly, he wanted to see her more than the test results.

Turns out he didn't have to wait long: rounding the corner he heard laughter coming from his office. Curious, as he had no permanent duckies, House high-tailed it even quicker to the office, where he found his "orphans" (those kiss-ups who would do anything to be a House ducky); his "grownups" (the duckies that had left the nest)…

…and Gabrielle, sitting around the office, apparently shooting the breeze.

About him.

"Gabrielle, would you like to hear about the time House tripped on LSD? He was so wasted," Cameron, started snorting as the others laughed.

"Boy, are my ears itching," House said as he eyed the scene in front of him…it unnerved him. They were all ganging up on him. Life could be so cruel.

"That's 'My ears are BURNING'. And if your ears are itching then clean them out." Foreman suggested seriously, which only made everyone laugh harder.

"He hey he," House rolled his eyes and over-exaggeratedly imitated Foreman. Eyeing Gabrielle sitting on his desk, her legs crossed (_'Why does she have to do that?'_), he asked, "You're here early. Oh, I know what this is: you simply can't get enough of the Gregster. Am I right?"

"Well, Dr. House, that's a good question," Gabrielle began, sliding off the desk. Suddenly spying the vintage original 1967 Gibson Flying V guitar nestled in the corner, she walked excitedly to it. Whistling softly, she asked, "Is that an original 1967 Gibson Flying V?"

House couldn't have looked any shocker had he been strapped to the electric chair and they'd just pulled the switch. "Yep. You play?"

She carefully ran her fingers over the strings…and HIS strings suddenly tightened. He could feel his own Flying V preparing for liftoff.

Gabrielle nodded excitedly. "Yes. My dad had a replica I learned to play on. I've just never seen an original this close up though." _'House, you are clear for liftoff in T-minus 5, 4, 3…_' She looked at him. "Will you play something?"

House marginally hesitated but easily caved as he was taunted by everyone else in the office. Rolling his eyes he quickly set the speakers up, took the instrument and, sliding it in front of him, played a truly wicked rendition of Aerosmith's "Sweet Emotion".

Gabrielle smiled and nodded, very impressed indeed. "That was pretty sweet. Now can I try?"

"If you dare," he smirked and handed it over.

"I'll be gentle." Sliding the magnificent instrument on her shoulder, she closed her eyes and thought back to the happy, musical memories with her father, when she was a kid. Unfortunately her unconscious stroking of the instrument sent House into orbit (_'Houston, we now have liftoff…'_). Keeping her eyes closed, she sighed and began playing "Dream On", another Aerosmith song.

Poor House…while he was an amazing guitar player, Gabrielle absolutely blew him away: while his C string flew, hers soared; while his high notes sang, hers breathed new life into an over-played song. She was, by far, the better of the two players. When she finished, there was no applause, only stunned silence. Looking around, everyone just stared, openmouthed. And House? While clearly not thrilled to be bested by a WOMAN, he simply couldn't deny the talent that was Gabrielle…nor the visual effect of her, in that conservative three-piece skirt suit, making love to his instrument. He began wishing it was his OTHER instrument she made love to…and he didn't mean his piano.

Folding his hands in front of him to conceal his, um, well, approval, he roughly said, "That was quite impressive. Tell me: do you also spin plates? Ride elephants? Train dogs? Spin plates as you ride an elephant while training dogs?"

She smiled and carefully put the guitar away. "Why, yes I do. I have a whole circus menagerie in my backyard. I do try playing the piano, but I really suck at it."

"See, House?" Chase asked, sitting back in his chair, his arm slung across the top of Cameron's chair. "There really is something you're better at than Gabrielle. Now, chin up old man. It's not so bad."

House narrowed his eyes at his former ducky. "Sounds like you've been keeping score or something."

Chase shrugged. "Everyone knows about you two, how she's been hanging out here lately." He turned to Gabrielle. "What exactly do you do for a living? Are you one of House's hookers?" He looked her up and down. "You don't look like a hooker…you look more like a secretary."

Gabrielle looked appalled. "Excuse me?"

House tilted his head very matter-of-factly. "Just how do you know I'm NOT into hooker secretaries? And how long have you children been talking to Gabrielle?"

"About 10 minutes. Why?" "Number 13" (an "orphan" whom no one seemed to know her name) answered.

"What has she said in those 10 minutes?"

"Not much, except her name and that she was waiting for you. Why…is she another fellowship candidate?" Amber, the severe, prim blonde "orphan" asked, scowling under her Burberry headband.

Rolling her own eyes at all this foolishness, Gabrielle figured it was time to tell them. Reaching into her handbag she pulled out her badge and gave them all a good eyeful (she reasoned she could've just told them but she wanted to see them squirm. The very thought that she was a hooker…). Looking straight at Chase, who'd instantly paled, she said, "Lieutenant Gabrielle Newsome, Princeton Police Department."

"Are you from Vice Squad? Did you pick up House for attempting to solicit an undercover cop?" Foreman had the courage to ask.

That made Gabrielle smile. "Not exactly. He's a consultant for a serial murderer case I'm investigating. He's been hired by us to analyze information."

The tongue House stuck out was a very "Nah nah nah nah nah" tongue. "Did you hear that?" He swept his cane toward Gabrielle. "Those police dudes think I'm something special."

"Oh, I wouldn't go THAT far Dr. House," Gabrielle had a compelling need to burst his bubble. "We were desperate."

"That's usually the only time people call House anyway," a newer and deeper male voice joined the conversation. Wilson smiled. "Isn't that right?"

House feigned devastation. "That was cold brother, very cold." House finally decided to get down to business. After all, he really wanted to be alone with Gabrielle. "We just saw each other last night. Couldn't stay away, could you? Once you've had a bite of the mignon, you'll never go back to ground round."

"There was no biting involved. And for heaven's sake, Dr. House! Are you always this self-absorbed?"

He looked at her as if she were crazy to think otherwise. "Of course; why even ask?"

Gabrielle widened her eyes incredulously then returned to his desk, where she'd laid her briefcase. With a tiny smirk, she swiped her arm across the desk, pushing his favorite toys off, thereby creating a cacophony of noise as they hit the floor. House shrieked in horror as they bounced around, landing in places a cripple couldn't easily reach.

"HEY! What'd you do that for?"

Smiling sweetly she innocently said, "We need room…to maneuver." deliberately creating a double entendre.

'_I don't believe this,' _House thought as his "Flying V" prepped for yet another trip to "the friendly skies". He was shocked; he hadn't had this many frequent flier miles in a long, long time. He just wished he was alone to deal with it.

But snark was all he knew, so snark was how he bit back. Slowly, methodically, House nodded in thought. "That's a good idea. In fact, it's about time the kiddies learn a thing or two." Never taking his eyes off Gabrielle's, he removed his jacket, letting it fall behind him. "And today's lesson is sex education. You children need to know how it works: what goes where; what to touch; how to touch." Eyeing the newly-cleaned desk, he nodded purposefully. "And this desk is the perfect place for the demonstration."

She hadn't meant for it to go THIS far…and now her head spun from the drastic change of events. "You mean right now, in front of an audience?"

"Of course right now…and how can you have sex education WITHOUT an audience?" He wiggled his eyebrows and rubbed his hands greedily. "Ok, I'm ready."

This time, Gabrielle had something to smile about. She'd noticed how aroused he was, ever since she picked up that guitar. A person would've had to be blind not to notice. Smiling boldly, she pointed to his crotch. "I can see that. You've been ready for quite some time."

For one of the first times…ever…he was actually humiliated. Rubbing the back of his neck to hide the blush, he coughed and leaned down to retrieve his jacket. "Class cancelled. Go and find a sandbox to play in. Daddy's busy at the moment." With very grateful looks, the crowd dispersed quickly and Wilson, the best friend, left with a stupid grin.

They were finally alone. Opening her briefcase, she pulled out the test results. Sifting through them, she tried not to notice how he'd moved around the desk to stand behind her. Unfortunately she just couldn't stop the shiver running down her spine when his hot breath caressed the back of her neck. She'd worn the severe (but very feminine) pinstriped suit, white silk shirt, and light-blue vest just to discourage him…it didn't seem to work. Coughing, she held up the results. "The results of the fluid tests are positive for pleural fluid, as well as dialysis fluid, synovial fluid, vomit, tears, urine…and even a bit of Milk of Magnesium." She rifled through the papers and held up some more test results. "But the most confounding information was the substance found underneath her fingernails. It's the skin of an 89-year-old female. Dr. House, this is just more planted evidence. It certainly bolsters my theory that he's intentionally leaving planted evidence at the scene, presumably to throw us off the scent."

House perked up and moved from her, taking the results. "Old granny's DNA? That's a new one." He whistled. "I gotta give the guy props for originality." He paused then looked back at her. "How did you manage to get DNA results so quickly? Those usually take weeks." He looked her up and down. "Did you 'call in a few favors', if you know what I mean?"

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at him. Of course she knew what he meant. "No, I did not sleep with the right people to get the results. I have friends in high places," she shook her head. "Dr. House, people like and respect me, despite what you think of me or my looks. I'm nice to them; they're nice to me. It's a great compromise; you should try it sometime. You might be pleasantly surprised."

House didn't know what to say to that.

"Dr. House, how did you even know to look under the fingernails? I didn't see that."

House shrugged. "I saw it on an episode of _Law and Order_, thought it might work here. See? More TV, less reading." Gabrielle couldn't help it; she began laughing. "What?" He paused and continued again. "The only way to get all this varied bodily material is by stealing it, and the only place to steal it from would be a medical facility, which means this guy either works in, or knows someone who works in, the medical field. Medical facilities are usually so understaffed that the chance of the killer stealing and getting away with it is very good."

"What about a morgue?"

He shook his head. "The fluid levels are too perfect. It takes precision to cleanly extract the fluid." House began thumping his cane against the linoleum, watching it as it hit the floor with a THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! "The samples were originally drawn by a medical professional, a doctor or nurse but there's an even better chance this guy works in another department down the chain of command, a laboratory most likely. He would need access to all kinds of bodily fluids and test samples. That's why the fluid's as varied as it is." He was still watching the movement of the cane as he grew silent, the thought process playing over in his blue eyes.

Gabrielle's excitement grew at the new direction the investigation was going in. "We need a listing of all the laboratory workers for all the clinics and hospitals in a 50 mile radius." _'Finally, we might be on to something,'_ she thought. Moving toward her briefcase to get ready to leave, she felt a rough male hand stopping her own. She lowered her head and closed her eyes, reluctantly savoring the moment. Quickly looking at him, she saw how dark his eyes had become. She suddenly grew uncomfortable.

"I'm not here…really, I'm not," Wilson's voice broke through the haze, for which Gabrielle was grateful. Clearing her throat, she moved away from House, shoved her papers into her briefcase and ran out of there like her backside was on fire. Ducking around the nearest corner, she leaned against it, held her stomach and breathed deeply, all the while wondering how her life had gotten so out of control…and how she could've fallen for someone so fast, especially when that someone was Dr. Gregory House.

*****

House watched her leave, his anger at his best friend's intrusion paling in comparison to the anger of letting himself get that vulnerable with a woman that quickly. No longer was she the "Plain Jane" who walked into his office that short time ago. Now she'd become important to him, along with her success with this case. He really did want to see her succeed...as long as it made him look good along the way. Selfish? Yes…but he couldn't change overnight, if he were to change at all. And that was a BIG if. This was how he was. End of story.

"I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" Wilson was grinning like Lindsay Lohan at an "All-You-Can-Drink" free liquor smorgasbord.

House studied him then rolled his eyes. "Doesn't your face hurt when you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Smile. Doesn't your face hurt when you do that? That's why I don't smile. I don't want lines all over my face. Gotta keep my boyish looks." House started walking towards the doorway.

"She went that a-way," Wilson, still grinning, pointed to the left. House stopped and shifted to the right.

"Gotta pee."

"Code words for "I got it bad". What has this woman done to you?"

Sighing, House face-palmed. "Why are you even here? Don't you have nurses to bang?"

"Nope, that's Thursdays. Today's Wednesday." Wilson paused and seriously contemplated his friend. His eyes widened. "Tell you what: I'll buy you a Reuben if you tell me about her."

House's face was tilted down but Wilson could see the little smirk. Looking up, House nodded. "Fine." They walked out the door and to the elevator. "You do know that I'm not going to tell you anything. I'm just along for the free food."

Wilson smirked, flashing his dimples. "I know."

House grin was enormous and quite mischievous.

**Chapter 6**

The hunt for laboratory workers took several days so House and Gabrielle didn't see each other for awhile…and both missed each other terribly.

So much so that, by the end of a full week of being apart, House did something he wouldn't normally do: he appeared at the precinct and sought her out.

Seeing her first when he arrived, he was blown away by what he saw: a completely relaxed Gabrielle wearing a light-blue tank top; blue jeans; reading glasses…and her glorious honey-brown hair messily swept into a clip, curls escaping and cascading around her face and neck. She was standing up, facing away from him and tapping a marker against her teeth while studying information written on a whiteboard in what looked to be the community conference room. He inwardly groaned. _'Oh, no, a whiteboard. And that tank top. I'm in serious trouble.'_ Apparently House found whiteboards arousing. Who knew?

For a very confident man, House could become very flustered. And he was flustered. So, he did what Dr. Gregory House always does: he stifled his feelings and banged his cane against the open conference room door.

Poor Gabrielle: she screamed and nearly fell over a chair in front of her. House grinned and snarked, "Wow. You look like you can't breathe. I'm very good at artificial resuscitation. Did you know that a third of all people lucky enough to have received my resuscitation skills say it's my mouth; another third say it's my hands. Everyone else claims it's both. I had one poor lady," he paused and chuckled smugly, "an 85-year-old, compliment me on both, then promptly have a heart attack from the sheer power of my resuscitation. Care to find out?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

Gabrielle, too busy trying to calm her racing heart, didn't snark back right away. And she couldn't entirely blame it on him scaring the living daylights out of her. She realized how she truly did miss him...and how much she wished to see more of him. Oh so much more of him.

Nerves finally calming, Gabrielle smiled. "Wow: you're multi-talented. Not only do you give lube jobs you also resuscitate lonely women and have a remarkable command of fractions. That was quite a display back there. I don't know why every girl doesn't just throw herself into your arms." Suddenly remembering how little she was wearing, she went to the coat rack and pulled her denim jacket on. She didn't want to encourage him, after all.

House grinned. This was his favorite part. "Oh honey, they already fall at my knees when they see me coming." He studied her in the denim jacket, sad she covered his view of her breasts. "And you really don't need to do that. I liked what I was seeing."

'_He's a bold one.'_ "That's why I put it on." She moved back to the whiteboard and deliberately turned her back to him. The room grew deathly silent but incredibly stuffy all of the sudden. "What are you doing here?"

Honesty was always House's friend (no, wait, that's shameless candor), but House being honest with his feelings? They were total strangers. He couldn't very well say "I missed you and want to see you naked", as much as he really, REALLY wanted to.

So he just used his other friend: the fine art of transference, making everything suddenly about the other person. "I thought you'd be missing me and I didn't want to break another heart so here I am."

Her back was still to him so he didn't see her close her eyes with realization. "We've been compiling and interviewing laboratory workers. We have nothing to go on." She quietly sighed, placed her hands on her hips and turned back around...and screamed again. He'd stealthily limped over and was standing behind her. It was those few feet between them that made her wonder if she'd need those resuscitation services after all. She turned back around and tried desperately to swallow the lump forming in her throat. It wasn't working.

This time his limp was much more pronounced and she could hear every decibel as he stepped to the whiteboard. "You know you need me," he began, a hint of seriousness in his own double entendre. Noting the hitch in her breath, he smiled. He knew she was just as bothered as he was. He leaned forward, allowing his hot breath to caress the back of her neck.

'_He REALLY needs to stop doing that,'_ her thoughts moaned through her head as she closed her eyes again. _'He's only setting himself up for a…oh…'_ she gasped as he fingered the curls closest to her neck. Coughing, she swore she heard him smirk behind her. She moved away and turned back around. Folding her arms over her chest, she asked, "Why on earth would I need you?"

"Because I'm brilliant."

Before she could say anything, yelling interrupted the peacefulness of the precinct. They both turned to see Jerry running in, carrying an evidence bag containing a specimen cup. "We've got another one," Jerry said, laying the bag on the table.

"What do you mean?" Gabrielle asked, removing her glasses.

"We've got another murder."

Now she was angry: not only was there another but, apparently, they'd forgotten to inform her. "And why didn't you tell me? These are my cases."

"Because I decided you didn't need to see another one. Gabrielle…" he started then stopped. "…the murders have just become more gruesome."

Gabrielle was quiet but House said what he was sure she was thinking. "Define gruesome."

Jerry sighed and flopped into a seat at the table. "She was raped, sexually mutilated and gutted."

Gabrielle deflated and, flopping into a seat across from Jerry, she held her mouth as the vomit rose and her stomach churned. _'On second thought, I'm glad I didn't go.'_

Jerry pushed the evidence bag closer to her. "But we caught a break. We found this underneath the porch. I think Mr. Psycho Killer dropped this as he was leaving." Both Gabrielle and House leaned forward and what they saw shocked them both: it was a plastic laboratory specimen cup with the words "PRINCETON-PLAINSBORO TEACHING HOSPITAL" etched along the underside.

**Chapter 7**

"It's time to involve the hospital," Gabrielle said, getting up and pacing. This brought a fierce shaking of House's head. "Why ever not?"

"They'll get the credit for capturing this guy when it rightfully belongs here."

"You mean you, huh?" Gabrielle rolled her eyes and moved toward the phone at the end of the conference room table. House, narrowing his eyes, moved to stop her but Jerry stopped him. Gabrielle paused her dialing to smirk at him. "Dr. House, that's not a good idea. You're in the middle of a police station. We have guns: big, BIG guns." She went back to dialing.

"Dr. Cuddy? Hi, this is Lieutenant Gabrielle Newsome." PAUSE, then Gabrielle looked at her watch. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was 11:45 at night. Did I wake you?"

"Doubtful; she's probably having a threesome with a Petri dish and a turkey baster," House murmured and Gabrielle shot him a confused look but continued her conversation.

"Look, we've had a huge break in the case but it involves the hospital. We need to meet tomorrow morning." PAUSE. "I can't tell you any more over the phone. Let's meet at 10:00 tomorrow." PAUSE. "Great. See you then. Bye." Gabrielle returned the receiver to its cradle and looked at Jerry. "Why do you think his M.O. changed? A serial killer…" Gabrielle began pacing again, thumping the whiteboard pen against her chin in problem-solving mode. "…falls in love with one style of killing and never deviates from it. He loves it; nurtures it; supports it. It becomes his life, his family, his very security. And that was true of this killer, at least for the first 12 years and 26 murders. He's always been a strangler. Now that he's changed, what does it mean?" Becoming completely lost in the detective mindset, Gabrielle forgot about House (who'd pulled up a seat to watch her work) and chucked her jacket onto a chair. Grabbing an eraser, she cleared a spot on the whiteboard for her new brainstorm. "Strangling is a very impersonal type of killing…very clean. I bet he doesn't even look his victim in the eye. He's arrogant but a coward at the same time. So…" She scribbled "ARROGANT" and "COWARD" on the board. "…he's suddenly changed his M.O. from impersonal to the most personal degradation. It's quite obvious his motivations have changed." She scribbled "MOTIVATION??" and circled it. "We've got to get into the mind of this killer. We always thought he was one way; we knew how he was going to act, but with these last two murders he's changed the game completely." She paused and wrote "MURDERS BECOMING MORE GROTESQUE" and "FREQUENCY OF MURDERS".

Stopping for the first time in five minutes, she looked at her audience of two, who were silently enthralled by her thought process. "Frequency of murders: why has it suddenly increased? Before a week and a half ago, he committed 26 murders in 12 years. That's three a year over the entire year. Jerry, it's May and all three have happened within a week and a half. He's getting desperate." Gabrielle paused long enough for House to have a say.

"What if he's trying to best a predecessor? You know, prove that he's a better serial killer than a more infamous one, like Ted Bundy or John Wayne Gacy? Ted Bundy had 29 murders within 4 years. Granted, this Strangler-dude is taking his time but still…" House's voice trailed off at seeing the surprised looks on their faces. "What? I watch The History Channel."

"Sos yous gots youself some edgeumacation?" Gabrielle smiled, mocking him. House rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue. "And THAT" she pointed to him at 'that', "just answered my question."

Jerry stood and held his hands up in an effort to stop their spat. "Children, children, stop. You can continue this discussion under the bleachers by the football field when we're done here," Gabrielle looked at him in horror. _'The very IDEA that this is a lover's quarrel is preposterous.'_ Judging by the look on House's face, it wasn't quite so preposterous to him. "Dr. House, we just don't have enough to even begin formulating a theory. In the meantime," Jerry looked at his watch. 12:00 a.m. "Gabrielle, it's midnight. Go home. You practically live here. Get some sleep and be ready for tomorrow." He studied the fatigue lines around her eyes. "You can't drive home." He looked at House then smiled. "Dr. House, can you give take her home?"

The transformation on House's face was miraculous. He looked eager…perhaps a bit too eager. Gabrielle caught it, too, which flattered her. "I don't need a ride. I'm fine." Her denial would've been very convincing had she not yawned at "I'm fine". It didn't help her case.

"Ok, that's final," Jerry said, standing up. "Dr. House is taking you home. I'll pick you up tomorrow at 9:30, all bright eyed and bushy-tailed, and we'll drive over there." He shot both of them a look that said "Don't stay up late you two" and left, shaking his head in wonder.

*****

"Do you trust me, little girl?" He wiggled his eyebrows in a very "dirty old man" fashion.

"Nope," They walked out of the precinct. Gabrielle looked around but, only seeing a motorcycle, turned to House. "Where's your car?"

"Cars are for wusses." He limped to the motorcycle and Gabrielle, reluctantly, followed. Stopping in front of the orange two-wheeled vehicle, she just stared. Pointing to the obvious scratch down the side of the bike, she asked, "What happened? Were you cruising for hookers and, thinking you saw Julia Roberts in thigh-high boots, ran over some poor granny crossing the street?"

"Julia Roberts? That would've been dawesome. She's got a great body. I wouldn't mind bumping her grind." Gabrielle rolled her eyes but caught the helmet House threw at her. "Hop on."

She slipped on the bike, settling herself behind him. Instead of holding onto him (which would've been safer) she decided to take her chances and grabbed the seat behind her. He turned the bike on but didn't do anything. After idling for several moments, she flipped up the clear guard of the helmet and leaned forward. "What are we doing? Aren't we going?"

He flipped his guard up. "Nope, not until you hold on to me."

"You can't be serious."

"Very. It's too dangerous for you." For once, she saw a seriousness she didn't expect. He actually seemed concerned about her well-being versus just snarking and stirring up sexual tension. Sighing heavily, she knew he was right; she just didn't want to put herself into MORE danger by touching him. Slowly wrapping her arms around his stomach, she couldn't ignore the intense beating of her heart; the fluttering in her stomach; or certain other feelings she didn't want to think about, much less feel.

"See? That wasn't so bad."

'_Easy for you to say buddy,'_ she thought, almost miserably.

**Chapter 8**

The ride back was exhilarating: wind whipping around her; the bright streaks of streetlights as they whizzed by at much faster than the speed limit; the feel of his body in her arms. Her mind raced way too fast and her nerves stood on end. '_Good grief girl!'_ she chastised herself. _'Gabrielle Jane Newsome, get a grip. You don't want anything to do with him. Stop this right now!'_ Who was she fooling? She wanted everything to do with him. Meanwhile…

Dr. Gregory House was having a very hard time keeping the bike in an upright position. His very active, very visual mind was filled with images of Gabrielle and his guitar…Gabrielle and his motorcycle…Gabrielle STRADDLING his motorcycle…Gabrielle straddling HIM…Gabrielle removing her tank top…Gabrielle's hands traveling down his chest, lightly caressing…

"WATCH IT BUDDY!" A passing motorist screamed, then shot him the bird as House ran a red light and swerved to miss that motorist who had the right of way. Thankfully they soon arrived at her house in one piece. House turned off the engine and secured the kickstand. Gabrielle, suddenly in a great hurry to vacate the space around House, took off her helmet, threw her leg over the back, and took off for her front door. She needed to get as far away from…HIM…as possible but, before she knew it, she heard the distinctive thumps of his cane as he hurried behind her. _'For a man with a limp and a cane he moves pretty quickly.'_ When she reached her door, he was standing behind her. Resolved to simply ignore him, she inserted the key into the lock and turned, just as a lean male hand caught the door handle, pulling it closed.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm holding the door closed."

"And why are you doing that?"

House smirked behind her. "There could be boogiemen. It's kind of scary. I wouldn't want a pretty thing like you getting hurt."

Gabrielle's breath caught in her constricting chest. _'Did he just call me pretty?'_ Her self-esteem had always been low, but it had hit rock bottom after the rape. That's why she'd buried herself in a predominately male industry where she didn't have to worry about not being pretty or feminine. The guys at the precinct already thought of her as "just one of the boys". As much as her mind screamed, _"DON'T TURN AROUND! DON'T LOOK AT HIM!"_ she just couldn't make her limbs, or her heart, obey.

Turning, but still leaving her hand on the doorknob, she regarded him for a moment then asked, "Did you just say I was pretty?"

The look on his face changed from sarcastic suaveness to complete honesty. His sky blue eyes roamed her face with an earnestness she was completely unaccustomed to. She just didn't know how to handle it. When dealing with Dr. Gregory House, the opponent needed to be on top of their game constantly.

At that moment she was so lost in those clear blue orbs she didn't think about that or even notice how close his lips were coming to hers. Just as they got to within a hair's breath from her own trembling ones, she stepped back.

His look of hurt confusion made her sigh. She shook her head and House suddenly remembered why: the rape. He only grew more confused because he clearly saw her desire in her eyes; she WANTED to be kissed.

Perhaps she was just terrified.

This made his blood run hotter and he wanted to show her, in his way, how desirable she was. She'd shifted her eyes to her feet, thereby missing that desire blazing white hot in his eyes as he stared at her lips.

Sighing, he took control. With both hands, he tilted her face and held it as his lips descended. Her eyes widened but she had no time to react as his prickly top lip grazed her smooth bottom one. He barely caught her faint whimper through the rushing in his ears. With this pent-up tension suddenly released, he moved closer to fully take her mouth.

Before she knew what she was doing, her desire took hold; lifting her hands to the back of his head, she flirted with the short hair at his collar. His kiss reminded her of what she was missing, of how hiding behind the rape was keeping her from so much. Judging from the quick intensity of the kiss, House hadn't kissed, nor been kissed, like this in a long, long time, no matter how many hooker references he made.

"HUMPH!" she gasped as he pushed her against the door but it didn't scare her…HE didn't scare her, as scary as he was.

Parting first, House grinned, his eyes misty with desire, and then growled, "I knew you wanted me." His fingers caressed the hair at the back of her neck. She shivered and involuntarily moved away from the door to press against him. He groaned, closing his eyes.

"You called me pretty." Despite the kissing milestone she just passed and the hot rush of blood surging through every part of her body, Gabrielle was still focused on those precious words.

He opened his eyes. Slowly moving his fingers from her neck, he removed her hairclip in one swift motion. House lost his breath as the moonlight shone from those luscious curls, their seductive dance across her shoulders driving him insane. Groaning, he threaded his fingers through the soft locks. Now that his hungry fingers had touched the perfect curls, other parts of his body ached to experience the sensation as well: to feel them move across his naked chest, down into friendlier territories and across his damaged thigh; to see them fanned out on his pillow, the dark against the light, the morning after.

"Yes I did. And I meant it." His discomfort by such an admission made the words come out as a choke.

Gabrielle turned from him and this time managed to open the door, but the movement of his hands: down her arms; skimming around her waist; stroking the front to her abdomen: made any kind of movement away from him almost unbearable. Just as the door swung open, House leaned forward and whispered as his hot breath and whiskers set fire to her neck, "I want to stay with you tonight."

Now she froze. That was the one possibility she did want, especially now and with him. At the same time, it was the one action she couldn't physically perform, not when she still relived the rape in her nightmares, those images still waking her up in cold sweats and nausea.

Her desires and her will were two very separate entities, seemingly always at war. Mustering the courage she never imagined she'd ever need again, she turned around and this time stepped fully away from him, further into her home.

"No Dr. House. We can't."

He briefly narrowed his eyes then studied her. "Why?"

"We just…can't. Please believe me. It's not you, it's me."

House smirked slightly. "I thought that was my line. I'm supposed to use it when we break up."

Gabrielle smiled faintly; she knew what he meant. "It's not much fun on the receiving end, is it?"

He didn't answer her, just regarded her seriously for a moment. "Is it because you were raped?"

There: she now knew he knew of the most awful event of her life, something she would've never wanted him to know about.

This did not make her happy. Not one bit.

Her eyes blazed. "How did you know?"

He didn't answer but willed her, with his eyes, to understand.

Gabrielle was absolutely furious now. "HOW DID YOU KNOW?!?" She yelled.

"Jerry told me."

"Perfect. The only secret I've ever had, the very same one that still gives me nightmares; the very violation that wakes me in the middle of the night with cold sweats and nausea, is out for the whole world to know. And just how many of your buddies have you told?"

It was House's turn to get mad. No matter what kind of an ass he was, he certainly wasn't THAT kind. Taking a step closer, he furrowed his brow. "I haven't told anyone."

She laughed sardonically. "And that's why you kissed me, wasn't it? Because you figured no one else would want me. Or was it ego? 'Give her a thrill by kissing the GREAT Dr. Gregory House. No one else will have her.' That's…just…great." Gabrielle stepped toward him and pointed to the door. "I want you to leave, now."

House's anger started to boil. "Now listen, lady. I didn't ask him and it wasn't my fault he told me. Personally I could've done without knowing the sordid details of your life. I have enough problems of my own."

"You're telling me. Get out."

House decided he wasn't going to fight anymore tonight. But it wasn't over. Not by a long shot. "Fine, I'm going. But don't think this is over." Unfortunately for Gabrielle, House couldn't make a clean break; he just couldn't turn on his heel and leave.

No, he had to make waves. And that's just what he did when he stepped forward, wound his arm around her trim waist and kissed her hungrily, before she even knew what hit her. Her whimper against his lips stirred his soul, not to mention other things.

House wanted her so badly, especially at that moment, as she struggled against him in angry passion. He'd never been so aroused in his life but he knew if he'd ever have a chance with her he'd leave right then. After all, he certainly would never do anything to harm her physically. Not after everything she'd been through.

Quickly releasing her, he turned and walked out the door without a backwards glance, leaving a lip-swollen and trembling Gabrielle wondering why Jerry told him about her rape; why Dr. House felt the need to let her know he knew…

And why she suddenly wanted to beg him to come back.

**Chapter 9**

The next morning, Jerry and Gabrielle pulled into the parking lot of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Jerry turned off the engine and reached for the door handle when she grabbed his arm.

"Jerry, wait," she said and he turned to her, bewilderment evident in his eyes.

"What is it?"

Gabrielle sighed and decided to take the plunge. "I know you told Dr. House about my rape." She saw him instantly blanch. "Why?"

Jerry sat back, studied her then studied something in the distance. It was some time before he answered. "Because I saw how affected you were when you learned about the first rape victim. It seemed you were reliving your own rape all over again." Her bewildered look pushed him to continue. "Then I saw Dr. House watching you. I realized how much he cared …and cares…for you. Gabrielle, he REALLY cares for you, probably more than he's ever cared for anyone in his life.

When he saw you at the crime scene, he was intrigued because he'd never met anyone like you before. By your own admission, you aren't beautiful; you aren't what men generally go for. Doctor House finally saw what everyone who knows you already see: a truly amazing woman. Despite his selfishness, he did look beyond the surface. Sweetheart," Jerry sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I didn't intentionally mean to cause you pain; I just wanted him to understand."

Gabrielle sighed. "But the last thing I want is for him to feel sorry for me. I don't want anyone's pity."

Jerry chuckled and shook his head at her naïveté. "Believe me, what he feels for you isn't pity." And he left it at that, exiting the car and leaving Gabrielle to soak in his words.

*****

They headed straight for Cuddy's office, where they found House, Cuddy and another, rather stern-looking, man with a briefcase. Gabrielle looked at House but he avoided his eyes. She quietly sighed and sat across from him.

"Good morning," Jerry said to Stern Man and House then smiled brilliantly and scooped Cuddy into a hug. "Lisa! How are you? You're looking fabulous!"

Cuddy smiled. Before she could answer Jerry, House snarked grouchily, "Can we just get on with this? I have places to go, people to see, hookers to do."

After introductions of Stern Man (who turned out to be the hospital lawyer, Leon Salisbury), Jerry turned to Gabrielle and nodded his head. Drawing strength from the knowledge they'd discovered the previous night, Gabrielle retrieved the test cup from her bag. "Dr. Cuddy, I know you know some of the details of these cases but let me summarize from the beginning." Cuddy nodded. "Ok, we're investigating the East Side Strangler and, unfortunately for everybody, the murders have intensified: they've moved from being stranglings to becoming sex crimes." She paused and caught her breath. "Anyway, a problem we're having with catching this killer is that he's very illusive. He leaves what looks to be viable evidence that could link the murders to him…but it proves to be completely useless. This evidence has absolutely no connection or purpose with the crime itself. The biggest puzzler seems to be the presence of biological fluid at every scene. Not only is the fluid not connected to the stranglings, simply because they are stranglings, but the fluid has become something of an anomaly in and of itself." Gabrielle pulled out the latest test results and handed them to Cuddy. Giving her a moment to digest what she was reading Gabrielle took a brief moment to look over at House. While not looking directly at her face, he WAS looking at her shoes. _'At least he's in the general area.'_

Cuddy's face scrunched in complete bewilderment, a look very similar to House's when he first read them. "What? But this is impossible. Pleural fluid?"

Gabrielle smiled and looked at House again. "That was Dr. House's reaction as well."

He vehemently shook his head no. "No it wasn't. I called you an idiot."

Gabrielle smiled wider and nodded. "I beg your pardon. You are absolutely right Dr. House. You did call me an idiot...the first time. Then, when the killings intensified, you accepted it because… " House finally looked at her and his right eyebrow shot up. Her own eyebrow shot up in triumph. "…your retesting proved we were right. But thank you for correcting me. Where would we be without you?"

House narrowed his eyes. "Blissfully ignorant and everyone would think I was right."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Ok, you two break it up. I get it: the fluid is funky. What does that have to do with the hospital?"

Still eyeing House, Gabrielle continued. "I told you all of that to tell you this: Dr. House and I came up with the conclusion…"

House interrupted her. "**I** came up with that conclusion."

It was Gabrielle's turn to roll her eyes. "…that the mixtures were too improbable to have been made naturally. They had to have originated from a source OUTSIDE this killer's body. Ultimately we concluded…"

"I CONCLUDED!"

"…that the samples must've come from a laboratory, specimen collection site or hospital. These are the only locations to find such a variety of fluids. We were in the midst of getting a listing of all people who work in a medical laboratory within 50 miles of the victim when the last victim was found." She paused and looked at Jerry, who gave her a tiny nod of encouragement. "This" she held up the specimen cup "was found at the last crime scene. Judging from the angle at which it was found, we surmised the killer dropped it. Fortunately for us it was the first mistake, in 29 murders, that he's made. Unfortunately," Gabrielle sighed and rubbed her eyes, "it took 29 murders for it to finally happen."

Cuddy moved toward Gabrielle, eyebrow arched, and took the evidence bag. Upon reading the "PRINCETON-PLAINSBORO TEACHING HOSPITAL" logo on the bottom, she paled a ghostly white and, wordlessly, handed the cup to Leon. Leon's mouth dropped and he fell into a nearby chair, all sternness gone. "We're screwed," Cuddy announced.

"We've got to keep this quiet," Jerry said, noting panic in both Administrator and lawyer's eyes. "If even one person gets a whiff of this, the killer, whoever he is, will know we're onto him and we'll never have a chance to catch him. Now, what I suggest is…"

Gabrielle placed her hand on Jerry's arm, effectively stopping him from continuing. Looking at Cuddy (since Gabrielle was terrified of looking at her boss; after all, he didn't know what she was about to suggest), she said, "I would like to work undercover here. In my opinion, he is a lab tech; they are probably the only people with round-the-clock accessibility to the samples."

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" two male voices tore through the office which caused everyone else to shriek in fright.

"Are you crazy?" Jerry asked with genuine concern on his face.

"You could get hurt." House added to the amazement of everyone else in that room. After all, they all knew him and how he really was.

Gabrielle looked wide-eyed at each man. "Jerry, I can understand your concern. After all, you're my superior and one of my oldest friends. But you, Dr. House…" she turned to him, his face furrowed in anger. "Why would you care if I go under cover or not? What's it to you?"

His face quickly switched to his famous "House" smirk. "Should this psycho kill you, I just don't want to see such a great pair of breasts go to waste, at least not until I've had my way with them."

"No, I will not let you go undercover. Besides, how would you get away with it? You have no laboratory training. You'd stick out like a sore thumb." Jerry attempted to reason with her.

"She could be a janitor, do what women do best: clean up after men." House interjected.

Ignoring the last half of his statement, Gabrielle was starting to get excited and began pacing. "That's perfect. I'll be the cleaning lady. But I've got to think of a way that he'll be interested in going out with me. After all, he won't try to do anything at work. He's probably got a very specific place he goes. For all we know, he could be a regular at a bar where he's known and liked." Gabrielle paused both talking and pacing. "I'll listen to their conversations then use those to get what I want."

House's head never stopped shaking during her entire dialogue. "Are you even LISTENING to yourself? Do you know what kind of danger you're putting yourself in?"

"Everybody calm down." Cuddy said. Turning to Gabrielle, she gave her a tiny smile. "Lieutenant Newsome, as much as I would love for you to catch this psycho, using however means possible, I don't think that's wise. You've already been here and people are talking." Gabrielle's face fell at her words. Cuddy turned to House but continued talking to Gabrielle. "You'd be amazed at the efficiency of the gossip mill here at the hospital. Isn't that right, Doctor House?" Everyone turned to him and he audaciously narrowed his eyes.

"Just what are you implying?"

Jerry nodded, thereby marking House's words ignored. "You are absolutely right, Dr. Cuddy. Gabrielle, it's too dangerous for you to go undercover here. I absolutely will not compromise your safety. I'm sorry." He paused. "But now, at least, we have a direction as to how to proceed."

Leon the Lawyer spoke up for the first time. "How can you ASSUME this person works here? All you have is the specimen cup; did you get prints off it?" Gabrielle's face registered where he was going with this and shook her head no. "What makes you so right? You've said he's very good at diversion. You also said you've never found any evidence, in all 29 murders, which could lead to his identity. Now, you are suddenly SO SURE he works for PPTH? What if the cup was a plant as well?" He paused and looked at Cuddy, who was beginning to look relieved. After all, what he said made a lot of sense and she was prepared to do anything to keep any suspicion off her front steps. Leon the Lawyer continued. "I've got this hospital to consider. I'm not about to go off of an assumption made by an overworked lieutenant desperate to solve her case. There's too much legal liability to do that." His smugness shot from every pore as he looked at Gabrielle.

Gabrielle looked at Jerry who hung his head. Suddenly needing to leave that room, she moved to her chair, gathered her belongings and left, without a word or look at anyone. She'd never felt so embarrassed, angry or frustrated in her life. As soon as Cuddy's office door banged shut, House, fuming, turned to Leon the Lawyer. He hated lawyers anyway so this would be the perfect opportunity to rail on one. "Why did you do that? Just because you're a prick doesn't mean you can treat Newsome that way."

Leon was appalled. _'Who does he think he is, talking to me like that?'_ "I'm appalled. Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?"

House stood up and loomed over the smaller man, who cringed and sunk further into his chair. "I'm Greg House, God's Gift to Medicine. Who are YOU? Gandhi? I'm thinking Mr. Potato Head." House studied Leon's eyes, hoping to get a reaction from him.

Instead, what he saw floored him. It was…arrogance. While arrogance in a lawyer is hardly uncommon, it wasn't the arrogance itself that startled House. This particular lawyer was GLOWING, almost as if he was…triumphant…somehow, an odd reaction given the circumstances. House knew that if the hospital lawyer were truly happy he'd stopped Gabrielle from spying on his turf, he'd have been relieved; a lawyer would do what they could to protect their client. But glowing was hardly the appropriate response.

House was alarmed but, not wishing to tip his hand, never allowed the alarm to show on his face. Instead, he turned on his good leg and limped out, all the while deciphering what just happened.

House didn't know what he saw or what it meant but he knew, with the same conviction as when he solved medical cases, there was something there. He just needed to work it out, talk it out, like his medical mysteries. He needed to speak with Gabrielle. And fast.

'_I don't even have her phone number.'_ He was so deep in thought that he literally stumbled into the object of his thoughts. "OOF!" House huffed as Gabrielle hit the floor. _'Wow,'_ he thought as he watched her fidget on the floor. _'I can make people appear. That's pretty cool.'_

Before he could do anything she was standing on her own and wearing the look of someone fighting tooth and nail to not cry. House grabbed her elbow and, looking around to see if anyone noticed where they were going (they didn't pay him one iota of attention since House knocked someone down on a daily basis; they were used to it), he escorted her down a side hallway. Stopping at his favorite hiding spot, a secret corner located by the gynecology department (_'I wonder why he chose THIS spot?'_ she thought), they sat down.

"Dr. House, what do you want?" Gabrielle was drained. She wanted to solve these murders then go on vacation, someplace far away from him.

"That weasel of a lawyer," House began, his mind racing, trying to put the details together.

"What are you talking about?"

"After you left, there was something in his eyes I didn't like."

"Well, that was probably arrogance. An arrogant person generally recognizes, and hates, another arrogant person," she stated matter-of-factly.

He let that one slide because…THAT'S IT! He knew what was bothering him about Leon the Lawyer.

"That's it Newsome!" House exclaimed excitedly, startling Gabrielle, not with his intensity but that he used a name other than "you" or "her" or even "it". "It's the arrogance! I know lawyers and that was NOT lawyer arrogance. That was an evil arrogance. You're right: an arrogant person not only hates but KNOWS another arrogant person."

"Ok, Dr. House," Gabrielle sighed. She was starting to get impatient with him. "It's been established both of you are arrogant, and that you recognize he's arrogant. Is there a point to this dialogue?"

"He's the serial killer."

**Chapter 10**

"WHAT?!?!?!" Gabrielle stood and almost shouted the word. "Do you realize…" Pacing, she stopped mid-sentence, sighed and face-palmed. Starting over, she sat down again and whispered, "Do you realize what you are saying? Do you not realize you've just accused a LAWYER of being a serial killer? Do you recognize the ramifications of such an accusation, especially since the lawyer you are accusing represents the hospital YOU work for?" Normally she would've disregarded such an outrageous accusation but he seemed so sure, so confident…and she knew that look: it was the same look she got when she instinctively knew who the killer was in her cases. _'Trust him,'_ her conscience told her. _'I can't explain it just…trust him.'_

Gabrielle sighed once more and paused in thought. Deciding she was open to just about anything, she said, "I can't believe I'm actually going along with this. How should we proceed? This is so…so…BACKWARDS. I mean, YOU should be asking ME that."

House was so caught in the mystery he missed what she said. "We know the murderer's been in the medical field."

"But Leon's a lawyer. What could he possibly know about medicine?"

"Maybe he went to medical school but quit to become a lawyer."

If he was a doctor before becoming a lawyer, then he'd know how to retrieve and use all the materials needed. "Ok…" Gabrielle started slowly, hoping her reluctant agreement wasn't showing. "…let's assume you're correct, that Leon the lawyer is the serial killer. How would we confirm?"

House grinned. "Come on, Lieutenant Newsome. You're a detective. What do you think?" Gabrielle was still clueless. House rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I'm very disappointed in you Newsome. We're going on an after-hours, covert operation to Human Resources."

Gabrielle's eyes widened at this. "But that's breaking and entering! I can't be a party to that."

"Oh come on Newsome, live a little. You're such a Goody-Goody. That's why you wear such boring, stuffy, uptight clothes. Life's short: wear a Wonderbra. I bet that's a Cross-Your-Heart."

Gabrielle gasped and crossed her arms over her sweater-covered chest. House grinned and leaned forward. "Come on, do you want to know or not? This could be what breaks the case wide open."

A bit confused, Gabrielle finally realized he'd switched subjects back to Leon the Lawyer and breaking and entering. "But that evidence wouldn't be admissible in court, STOLEN evidence I might add."

"His personnel file will never even leave that room. All we need to know is if he went to medical school, then we can try to catch him in the act of stealing from the lab, perhaps even be heroes and prevent him from killing again."

"Just…give me a moment to think." Gabrielle stood up and began pacing. The more she thought, the more she realized that, despite the fact that breaking and entering is just WRONG, there were too many other more compelling and juicy reasons to agree to this covert operation, one of them being alone, with House, in the dark…

Funny how, at that particular moment, this reason stuck out more than actually catching the serial killer that had made hers, and many others', lives a living hell.

Shrugging, Gabrielle stopped pacing and stood in front of House. "Fine. What's the plan?"

House grinned. THIS was what he was good at…

**Chapter 11**

At 10:00 that night, while the rest of the hospital was smart enough to keep to their own business, Gabrielle arrived at their meeting spot. Dressed in skinny black jeans, tiny black cotton t-shirt and black Adidas, Gabrielle **looked** like a cat burglar; in reality, she was shaking in her sneakers. She'd made sure she wasn't followed, either by the boys from the precinct or by Leon the Lawyer. House still hadn't arrived so she began pacing, making sure she wasn't seen.

"Much better Newsome," a voice interrupted her impatient and worried thoughts. Turning she saw House dressed in a snug black t-shirt, black jeans and black Nikes…and her breath left her body. If anyone could wear black, it was House. Quickly averting her eyes, he chuckled as he walked closer. Then he opened his mouth. "That's a great shirt. Just wish it was white and soaking wet."

THAT snapped her out of her hormonal haze. "Ok, the sex comments REALLY get old after awhile. Drop it." Her firm tone surprised…and excited…House.

His lips curled into a slow, sexy smile, the one that made her abdomen flutter. "Yes ma'am." She could've sworn he'd drawn out the "ma'am" to make her hot. Coughing, she placed her hands on her hips. "Can we just get on with this? By the way, I've picked out my last meal for before I get strapped to the chair for this stupid stunt."

"Harrumph," House grumbled. "Come on spoil sport." Gabrielle followed House through the back hallways and elevators until they reached the door that said "HUMAN RESOURCES."

Watching House pull out a key, Gabrielle's eyes widened. "I'm not even going to ask where you got that from."

Grinning, he slipped the key into the lock and silently turned it. Looking around, he gently pushed her inside. "Da-da da da da-da-da da da da da-da da-da-da da," House sang softly, making his way through the dimly-lit room.

"What are you doing?" Gabrielle whispered, quite afraid to speak normally, as if someone was going to pop out and catch them at any moment. She pulled two Mini-Maglites from her back pocket and, after handing one to House, began scanning the file cabinets.

"I'm singing."

"Thank you Miss Marple. WHAT are you singing?"

"Well, why didn't you ask? It's 'Tom's Diner' by Suzanne Vega."

THAT startled her just as much as this crazy mission had. She shone her light in his general direction, careful not to hit his face. "Really? I'm surprised you even knew who Suzanne Vega was."

"Of course I know who Suzanne Vega is. My musical repertoire is quite extensive. 'I am sitting in the morning, at the diner on the corner…' " he sang as he scanned the file cabinets. He startled Gabrielle with a sudden chuckle. "You know, the song really should go, 'I am sleeping on the mattress of the woman from the precinct'…"

And Gabrielle didn't need her badge to deduce what that meant. Rolling her eyes, she scanned the file drawers until she came to "PERSONNEL SAC – SAV". "Dr. House, is this it?"

He came over and grinned. "Why, yes it is little girl. Those policin' lessons shore did you some good. That's very good work." He patted her head as if she were a Schnauzer then pulled the drawer handle but it didn't budge. The string of expletives that left his mouth brought a blush to that "little girl's" face and an odd rush of desire for that potty mouthed doctor.

He still struggled with the locked cabinet as she crossed her arms over her chest and grinned. "Do you think if you keep yanking on that locked drawer it will give up and pop open?"

"I was expecting all of them to have popped open when we entered. I mean, GREATNESS is in their midst and they're acting like lowly file cabinets. What gives?"

Suddenly happy she'd brought her lock picking kit with her, she pulled the kit from her other back pocket. _'It's a good thing I come prepared.'_ "Move over little boy. Let the woman work." With that, it was his turn to grin as he watched her work the cabinet lock with the flashlight in her mouth. She looked like she'd done this before. The lock popped easily and House yanked it open. Looking down at her proud face, he said, "Very cool. Have you done this before? You're sure gonna have to show me a few tricks sometime."

"I could pick your lock."

He grinned even wider. "I look forward to it." Seemingly reluctant to look away from her, he scanned the files until they saw "SALISBURY, LEON". Pulling out the folder, it was House's turn to stick a flashlight in his mouth as he read. His eyes widened and mouth grinned around the flashlight. Handing her the folder, he simply said, "Take a gander."

She impatiently read the folder and was shocked by what it said. Leon Salisbury, aged 43, was a child prodigy. With an IQ of 198, he is a polymath, a genius with knowledge in a broad spectrum of concepts and subjects. Graduating from college at 18, then medical school at 21, he practiced medicine for five years.

"It doesn't say why but he suddenly decided to study law and earned his law degree in two-and-a-half years, passing the bar in three states in one sitting." Gabrielle read then her eyes widened. "Dr. House, look!" She pointed to the folder. "Fifteen years ago he became the hospital lawyer for Princeton General!" She looked at House, whose jaw was tensely working, his thoughts written in his eyes. "That completely fits. He's worked at some sort of medical facility ever since the stranglings began!"

After a short pause, he looked at her. "What do you think we should do?"

"We should follow him to see if he goes to the lab. If he does it could mean he has another victim planned. We've got to stop him before he can do it again. Are you game?"

"Yep. Let's go." They put everything away and, slowly opening the door, left when the coast was clear. Stepping in a side elevator, they sighed with relief.

"Well, Newsome, you do know what this means, don't you?"

"What?"

He smiled and leaned against the side of the elevator car. _'I really wish he wouldn't lean like that. It's terribly distracting.'_ "It means we'll be spending a lot of time together. Alone…late at night…on my turf."

Gabrielle groaned inwardly. _'I forgot about that.'_ "Really? Well, I could arrange for around-the-clock video surveillance on the lab. I've got a very busy schedule and can't hang out with you all the time." House didn't look too keen on this but didn't say anything.

Arriving at the largest lab in the hospital, they found no one around. Gabrielle raised an eyebrow. "Ok, Mr. Bond, here we are. What next?"

"A hiding spot," he said, looking around. "The nurse's station. Hide under the desk."

"What? You've got to be kidding."

"Of course not. Would I really joke about something like this?"

"Yes."

He smirked. "I guess I would."

Gabrielle placed her hands on her hips. "And what do we do when, say, a NURSE comes back?"

He grabbed her hand and yanked her toward the station. "It won't be a big deal; they've seen me under their desks before, usually hiding from Cuddy."

"Have you ever been underneath their desk with a girl?"

He grinned and they stopped at the empty nurse's station. "They wouldn't have to see you. I could lie on top of you."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He smirked even wider but his eyes were completely serious as he said, "Yes I would." Just then the stillness was broken by loud steps and murmured female voices. House and Gabrielle suddenly ducked and made themselves as small as possible under the desk just as two sets of scrubbed female legs appeared. Gabrielle turned to House to gauge his response but was cut short when his arm snaked over the top of her bent knees and held her to him. She frowned at him but he just winked and smirked.

The nurses went about their business and never noticed them. Sighing with relief as they heard their voices get softer and softer, Gabrielle said, "Well, I guess this is a good hiding spot."

"Don't ever doubt the Gregster. He knows all the best hiding spots."

"The GREGSTER?"

He just rolled his eyes and emerged from the hiding spot. Semi-crawling along the floor, he peeked around the edge of the station to find no one around. "Coast is clear."

Gabrielle crawled over to where he was sitting. "Ok, are we going to be doing this ALL night?"

House leaned against the side of the desk and pulled out his pill bottle, the one she'd seen numerous times. He popped a pill and closed his eyes. Feeling her eyes on him, he asked, "What?"

"What happened to your leg?"

House's eyes popped open and he studied her. "None of your business."

"Just like the rape was none of yours."

"That wasn't my fault. Blame your bestest buddy Jerry. He squealed on you." When he saw Gabrielle wasn't going to back down, he sighed and said, with a bitter overtone, "An aneurysm clotted. It caused an infarction and the thigh tissue died. There it is. Not very glamorous. Would I be sexier if I said I got a bum leg from playing professional hockey or by being a Good Samaritan?"

She smiled. "No because lying isn't sexy. I wouldn't believe you were a hockey player and I DEFINITELY wouldn't believe you were ever a Good Samaritan." She continued to study him. "You sound awfully mad about something like this. Things like this happen; you just deal with it and move on. You should be happy to be alive. Blood clots kill."

From the look on his face, there was a lot more to that story he wasn't going to tell her. "Newsome, have you really had sex on a lawnmower?"

Gabrielle's head reeled from his sudden change in subject but she smiled as she remembered their conversation. "Nope."

"Damn. I would've respected you more if you had."

"You?"

He grinned but shook his head. "Sex on a motorcycle is very good, especially at high speeds."

"What about speed bumps?"

"Even better." He stared into space as he thought about that and she just shook her head, unable to believe the direction that conversation took.

*****

Two hours, six nurses and little conversation later, it was after midnight and she was nodding off. She was lying on her stomach, underneath the desk, and House was sitting against the desk, counting ceiling tiles, when a sudden but quiet THUMP caught both their attentions. Gabrielle sat up and looked at House who'd put his finger against his lips. They listened and it happened again. THUMP, THUMP. It was coming from behind them. Turning around, Gabrielle saw, from her position under the desk, the very top of a dark head over the nurse's station. Looking over at House, she quietly indicated she saw someone then turned to the direction the head was moving. THUMP, THUMP.

She followed the noise until she saw the person entering the lab. Her eyes widened. Looking back at House, who'd seen her reaction, he mouthed "WHAT?"

Seeing the lab door closed and the person in it, she whispered, "Its Leon. He's here." House shot her a wide-eyed look as well and looked in the direction of the lab.

Sure enough, there was Leon. And he was retrieving items from the refrigerated storage units.

**Chapter 12**

"We can't stop him now," Gabrielle whispered, still watching Leon expertly maneuver around the lab. "It's not a crime to be in a lab and it doesn't mean he's the murderer. We've got to tail him, study his movements. They will tell us how close he is to murdering again."

The look on House's face told Gabrielle he so didn't want to do that. She suddenly had visions of House limping behind Leon and caning him to within an inch of his life. As exhilarating as it would be to watch him get physical, it wasn't going to happen. Feeling as if it were necessary to keep him from moving, Gabrielle placed a hand on his arm. Suddenly knocked out of his thoughts, House looked at her, intrigue on his face.

"We've got to follow him." Gabrielle repeated. Surprisingly, House agreed. "And we're taking my car." Again, House agreed, all the while staring at her so intently she was getting nervous. "What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing." He turned away and looked at the lab, just in time to see Leon leave with his bag of "loot". "There he goes. Come on." Stealthily, House and Gabrielle followed him out the hospital and to his car, which was parked several away from Gabrielle's in that rather crowded employee parking garage.

"My car is over here," she pointed to her Honda Accord and, beeping it open, they were undetected. Crouching inside, they noted his red Beamer ("Oh brother," House rolled his eyes at the expensive car) and quickly started following him, straight home to his condo. Parking several houses away, they watched him walk inside.

"Now what do we do?" Gabrielle asked House, watching as Leon turned on lights and opened windows. She noted the time on the dashboard, 1:00 a.m. "Clearly it's too late kill tonight. The bodies have always been found before midnight. I'm going to assume he prepares days ahead of the murders. We need to have him watched, around the clock. I'll let Jerry know what's going on."

"What do you want me to do?" House asked, still watching the condo. Sadly, she knew that his involvement with this had come to an end.

"Your work is done." He turned back to Gabrielle, confusion written all over his face. "You've helped us tremendously but now it's time for us to handle this."

House's jaw gnawed at this but he didn't say anything as she turned on the car and quietly left the neighborhood. There was absolutely no conversation between them on the ride back to the hospital, not even so much a goodbye between them. Neither could muster the courage to actually say the word.

*****

The next morning surveillance was put on his condo. For three days, nothing happened and Jerry, exasperated, finally called it off. Gabrielle was livid when she heard.

"Why was the surveillance lifted?"

Jerry sighed. "Gabrielle, we don't have the manpower, nor the evidence, to prove this guy's the killer. For all we know, he could be Dr. Cuddy's little errand boy who needed to get something from the lab for her."

"At midnight?" Gabrielle began yelling. "This is THE GUY! I KNOW it!"

Jerry shook his head. "I'm sorry. I can't keep him under surveillance. That's it." Gabrielle, desperate to contain her anger, balled her fists, shut her mouth and stomped out of his office.

'_Fine. If you won't do it, I'll do it myself.'_

*****

That fourth night, as soon as it got dark, Gabrielle began her own surveillance. It didn't take long for Leon to emerge from his condo. Dressed in a dark long-sleeved shirt, expensive trousers and dress shoes, he seemed even more frightening at night than in the daytime. Leon drove in the opposite direction from her and Gabrielle followed.

Pulling across the street from the nightclub Leon eventually stopped at, Gabrielle watched as Leon slinked his way inside. The predatory look on his face gave her the creeps. She knew he was on the prowl and if they, well, SHE, didn't do something, FAST, another woman would be dead. She desperately wanted to go in there; she wanted to watch him work. _'What if you just blended in? You don't have to make your presence known. It's a busy place. Come on, Gabrielle; this is something you've always wanted to do: catch the killer. You can do it.'_ "Yes, I can," she thought and, securing her car, went across the street and into the nightclub.

She saw him right away, sitting at the bar and talking with a beautiful redhead. That predatory look was gone; he was charming, fun and, in this exciting atmosphere, extremely attractive. All smugness had evaporated and it was like he was a completely different person. As she stood in the darkened corner, she kept her eyes on him as she pulled out her cell phone. "Jerry?" She asked, attempting to make herself heard over the ruckus of the nightclub.

"Gabrielle? Where are you? What are you doing?"

"I'm at a dance club called The Silver Star, on Old Wayne Road. I've found Leon. He hasn't seen me but I think he's working on his next victim. We've got to get uniforms out here, now."

"Gabrielle, are you crazy?? You're in real danger; what if he sees you?"

"I'll be fine. Just get them here. I'll keep an eye on him. Oh, and Jerry?" Gabrielle began again, pushing herself up against the wall as people passed by. "I will keep my cell phone on. It's got a GPS tracking device in it. If something should happen," she heard him begin to break into the conversation but she continued, "use the GPS tracker to find me. I'll call you later."

"But Gabrielle…" Jerry yelled as she slapped her phone shut. Leon was still sitting at the bar but the redhead had gone. Looking around, she found an empty table behind her and sat. She couldn't get an immediate fix on him because people were walking around her; the nightclub was filling fast. By the time she could see the bar, he was gone.

Now she was worried. Looking around her, she couldn't see him. Standing, she moved from her table but that slight height advantage didn't help either. Just as she was turning back to the bar, she felt a strong hand on the back of her neck. "Hello, Lieutenant Newsome. Fancy meeting you here," the sinister words and hot breath instantly told her who it was. She looked behind her and saw Leon. His grip tightened and she quietly yelped in pain. "What do you say we leave this place, get to know each other better?"

**Chapter 13 **

Jerry laid down his office phone. He knew, in the pit of his stomach, Gabrielle was in serious trouble but, for some bizarre reason, he thought to call House. Pulling out the case file, he easily found the doctor's cell phone number and dialed.

"House."

"Dr. House? This is Captain Jerry Carpenter. I got a phone call from Gabrielle. She's followed Salisbury to a nightclub and followed him inside. She told me to get uniforms over there. I think she's in danger."

Jerry hadn't even needed to finish. All House said was, "Which nightclub? I'll be there in ten minutes."

*****

When House arrived, Jerry and uniforms were there, clearing out the place. House leapt off his bike and hobbled to Jerry. "What's going on? Where's Newsome?"

A very stern Jerry turned to House. "They're both gone and Gabrielle's car is still here. I can only assume he's taken her but, since I don't know which one is his car, I can't tell you for sure."

Without a word, he hobbled through the parking lot, looking for Leon's distinctive red Beamer. Five minutes later, "It's not here. He's taken her." With Gabrielle's disappearance suddenly sinking in, House began to get mad…very, very mad.

"How could this have happened? Weren't you doing your job and protecting your own?" House yelled on Jerry who just took it.

"I had no idea she was doing this. She called me from here and before I knew it she was telling me to track her if something should happen, then she disconnected."

"She told you to track her? Then why aren't you tracking her?"

Jerry smiled weakly. "We are…" he held up his Blackberry, which showed coordinates.

"And why aren't you following her?"

"I was waiting for you."

House, not sure how to respond, just nodded one abrupt nod and turned toward an unmarked police car. "I'm here now; let's go."

*****

"Leon, can't we just talk about this? We can get you help…" The pressure of his hand on his neck intensified and she yelped. The car ride was a blur. _'The guy's a maniac. He's really going to kill me.'_

"Why are you doing this?" She asked, suddenly startled to see familiar territory. They were turning into her subdivision. "How do you know where I live?"

"Miss Newsome, I'd assumed you knew everything about your prey. I'm rather disappointed in you. Miss Newsome…Gabrielle. Can I call you Gabrielle?" He chuckled and pulled along the sidewalk two houses from hers. Getting out, he grabbed her and roughly pulled her out of the passenger seat from the driver's side. A knife suddenly appeared and she whimpered. Chuckling, he pulled her toward her house but, at the last minute, turned toward the vacant house across the street, the "For Sale" sign still hanging in the yard. Her eyes widened as he pulled out keys and jammed one into the lock, opening it.

When the door swung open, what she saw terrified her even more: surveillance equipment; cots; provisions and various other miscellaneous items littered the front family room. "You've been watching me!" Her stomach swirled and churned. And then she saw it: sitting on a makeshift table by the door was a bracelet, made with very distinctive jade.

She'd have known that bracelet anywhere.

It was the bracelet her rapist wore the night she was raped.

**Chapter 14**

Gabrielle looked at the bracelet in horror and suddenly knew. Leon was not only the East Side Strangler; he was also her rapist.

"But…what?? How…" Gabrielle had never known terror like she did at that moment. Whenever people talked about "fighting for their lives", she did what everybody did: nod and pretend to understand. Even that horrific night 10 years before, she wasn't as afraid as she was at THIS moment. For once, she truly did understand what it meant to fight for your life. She also realized this wasn't going to end well for one of them. She just needed to insure it wasn't her.

Looking back at Leon, she'd seen he'd changed…and the monster standing in front of her was unlike anything she'd ever seen…except for once, ten years before. "Hello Gabrielle. Remember me?"

Not quite sure of how to act in these situations, since the police academy doesn't really cover this, Gabrielle decided to wing it. "Yes Leon. I remember you."

"And who am I?" He wanted to hear her say it; he wanted her to put her violation into words.

"Leon Salisbury, Lawyer."

"And?" He slowly walked to her, holding the knife up and his face reddening; he was beginning to get impatient.

"You work for Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital." _'Stall him, Gabrielle.'_

"Come on, Gabrielle. Who am I?"

"Apparently, you're my neighbor. I'm sorry I haven't welcomed you to the neighborhood officially. I've been awfully busy."

Leon narrowed his eyes. "QUIT STALLING!" A sudden, quick, violent temper appeared and he stepped closer. Gabrielle whimpered and stepped back, bumping into the staircase railing. The faint "CLANK" and the warm hardness pressing into her back suddenly reminded her of the weapon tucked in her waistband, along the small of her back. In all the confusion, she forgot she was armed. At least she wasn't completely defenseless. "WHO AM I?"

Very quietly, she finally spoke the words she hoped she'd never have to speak: "You're my rapist."

*****

Jerry and House sped along the streets, the portable police light and siren blaring. About three miles from where the GPS said they stopped, they turned off the siren and House exclaimed, "Wait, I know this area. Doesn't Newsome live around here?"

Jerry smiled faintly and nodded, increasing his speed. "Yes she does. And how do you know that?"

House rolled his eyes. "I took her home, remember? Nothing happened."

"And why not?"

"Blame Newsome. I was rarin' to go but she put the breaks on."

Before Jerry could say anything, they arrived on her street. "There's Leon's car!" House pointed to the red Beamer. Picking up the police radio, Jerry called for backup as they pulled into her driveway. Finishing the call, House and Jerry got out, determined to find them…

**Chapter 15**

Leon's quick temper dissipated. "See, that wasn't so difficult." He looked at her, taking in her plain blue t-shirt, denim shorts and running shoes. "Gee whiz, I wish you'd have dressed for the occasion. You are so plain; you could do so much with yourself." He shook his head, as if it were a pity she was that way.

"Why are you doing this, Leon? You are so smart, have so much potential. What happened?"

Leon watched her. "You happened."

Now she was startled. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"You happened. You wouldn't die, no matter how I tried. I couldn't kill you." Letting his guard down, he began pacing and waving his knife, leaving a speechless Gabrielle hanging on his every word. "When I first found you, I'd killed six already. The thrill was there; it was exciting. But I wanted more.

That night, I'd planned on kidnapping, raping and killing a woman. I had everything I needed, including that black mask so you'd never recognize me." He looked back at the bracelet, still sitting on that makeshift table. "I shouldn't have worn the bracelet but I'm glad I did. I wanted you to discover it was me; I've always wanted you to know that.

When you pulled up to the grocery store, you weren't planned but, the moment I saw you, I knew you would be it. I didn't seek you out, like I sought out the others. You were my practice run…and you were the perfect victim. After all, I figured no one would care about a plain, nondescript thing like you." He chuckled sinisterly then continued.

"Everything was working out fine…until I took you to the bleachers of that high school. After that, everything went wrong. And I panicked. Leaving you in that football field wasn't my plan but someone was coming and I had to escape."

Gabrielle couldn't comprehend what he was saying. _'It's MY fault he continued killing? How's that supposed to make me feel?'_

"When you lived I was too afraid to try again so I went back to my old favorites, 3 a year for 10 more years. That was until you started working with House."

*****

"Gabrielle? Leon?" Jerry asked, banging on the front door.

"They won't answer the door that way, Jerry. Don't you know your proper rescue techniques? You have to bust down the door, guns blazing. You look like a hero then." House began looking for a hide-a-key. After all, he had a gimpy leg. He certainly couldn't break down the door himself.

Jerry smirked a bit but continued banging on the door. "I know you want to look like a hero. Are you THIS desperate for sex?"

"Hell yes! Have you SEEN her body?" After House was unsuccessful at the great hide-a-key search, he limped to the front window and peeked into the open curtains. Everything was quiet. "Jerry, I don't think they're here. It's too quiet."

Jerry stopped and listened. "You're right. But where could they be?" He turned around and looked out at the neighborhood. Something in the window across the street caught his eye. "Dr. House, there are people in that vacant house." House instantly turned and followed Jerry's pointed finger. His eyes widening, House nodded and took off, hobbling as quickly as his bum leg could take him. It was times like this (like these times actually happen a lot but still) that made him wish he was a whole man.

He just hoped he wasn't too late…

**Chapter 16**

"What does Dr. House have to do with this?"

Leon stopped pacing and looked at Gabrielle directly, holding the knife in front of him. "Do you know how long this house has been vacant?"

Gabrielle was wondering where he was going with this but, the longer he talked, the longer she had to live. Reaching behind her to hold the railing, she grazed the gun, reminding herself she wasn't completely alone. She just prayed Jerry was coming. "I don't know, a year, maybe two. I never noticed."

Leon smiled. "I own this house. I bought it. I've been watching you for quite awhile now. I bought it to be near you."

She didn't quite know how to digest everything she'd been dealt, so she asked again, "What does Dr. House have to do with this?"

"The more I watched and kept tabs on you, the more secure I was in how I'd ruined your life. After all, you ruined mine by proving what a failure I can be at killing."

"But you aren't a failure at killing."

"Yes, I am. You are still here." Leon started pacing again. "If you had just died, I might not have even continued killing. But it became an obsession; I had to ruin more lives but, being too embarrassed rape again, I stuck with what I was good at," he repeated. "But, when you started working with House, I saw how you…changed. You seemed happier, more confident." Leon frowned and began waving the knife absently.

"I saw you with House in the hospital cafeteria. I saw the looks you gave him and how you were happy. I knew my control over you was loosening and my anger toward you took a whole new direction." He smiled sinisterly. "I went back to sexual crimes. You know, I've become very good at them." _'The psycho is proud of himself. This isn't your fault, Gabrielle; you didn't cause this.'_ At that moment, Gabrielle finally came to terms with her rape: it truly wasn't anything she did and now she had a chance to do something about it. SHE was going to take control. Before she could, Gabrielle realized Leon was still talking.

"From the very beginning, when you first came to the hospital, I realized I was in trouble. I'd heard you brought House in to analyze the fluid. If anyone is smart enough to catch me, it was House, that son-of-a-…"

"About that," Gabrielle interrupted, needing an answer to a question that had been nagging her for quite a long time. "What's the deal with the fluid? It was just a plant, wasn't it?"

Leon smiled triumphantly. "Of course it was. I saw it done in a movie once and wanted to try it."

"Unfortunately, it was that arrogance that got you in trouble."

He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to her, holding the knife up. "I'm not arrogant."

Gabrielle was on a roll. "And you're in total denial. Quite sad, really."

That quick temper appeared again. Leon leaned in closer but suddenly the door banged open since it was unlocked.

"GABRIELLE!?!?!?! LEON?!?!?!?!" Jerry yelled as he pushed open the unlocked door. Leon turned, giving Gabrielle enough time to brandish her weapon, pointing it at him. But Leon was concentrating on Jerry.

"NEWSOME!" Another voice tore through the chaos and Gabrielle, still on guard but confused, looked up to see House standing in the doorway. When he saw her weapon, his worried face lifted a bit.

"Dr. House! What are you doing here?" She asked, concentrating on Leon who, by now, had turned back to Gabrielle.

"Saving you."

"And doing a swell job, I see. Stay out of the way, I'm gonna shoot him." Leon shrank at this.

"Please, have mercy on me Gabrielle, just like I had mercy on you," Leon whispered, his voice pleading. What he didn't count on was how transparent his eyes were. She read everything in his eyes: that he was only doing this to get the upper hand. He, of course, had no mercy on her then…or now.

Angry, hurt tears welled in her eyes. She wasn't about to hide it any longer. The gun shaking as she held it with both hands, she said through clenched teeth, "Just like YOU had mercy on ME all those years ago? You had NO mercy on me; I'm only alive because you aren't as good at killing as you think you are."

"Gabrielle, what's going on? And put that gun down." Jerry asked, moving closer.

"Jerry, step away. He raped me and the only reason I'm alive is because he couldn't kill me. I want to be the one to end this."

"Don't sink to his level, Newsome. Elle," House began and his use her favorite nickname (which he couldn't possibly have known) made her look at him through her sobbing. "Elle, let him go to trial; take him down in court. Then you'll win." Seeing the earnest pleading of his eyes, Gabrielle knew she couldn't have killed Leon…but she had no control over her actions. Besides, it had been a really stressful day and she needed to shoot SOMETHING…or someone.

Disregarding everything everyone said, she pulled back the hammer…

**Chapter 17**

…and shot Leon's foot.

"YOWWW!" Leon screamed, dropped the knife and grabbed his bleeding foot.

"GABRIELLE!" Jerry rolled his eyes, leaned over and slapped the cuffs on Leon, just as sirens could be heard outside.

Sticking her weapon back into her waistband, she ran outside and, directing the uniforms inside, she said, "Watch out. There's a lot of evidence here." She turned to Leon, who was hunched over in pain. "We've just caught the East Side Strangler. Oh, and call for an ambulance. He's wounded."

Turning to Jerry, who was watching Gabrielle with disbelief, she said, "Please take me back to the precinct. I want to wrap this up and then I'm going on vacation." Suddenly remembering House, she looked around but didn't see him. "Where's Dr. House?"

Jerry smiled tiredly. "He's getting a ride back to the nightclub. I think he's mad at you."

She sighed. "What else is new? Let's just get out of here." With that, Jerry stepped forward, wrapped her in his arms and held her for a moment before leading her out the door.

She saw that one door was closing; the events of ten years past were now dealt with. But she feared that the one casualty of this whole ordeal was her one chance at happiness, which left without even saying goodbye. She didn't know what to do.

**Epilogue: **

**TWO AND A HALF WEEKS LATER**

Sighing as she stepped into her home, Gabrielle threw her purse and keys on the foyer table, toed off her shoes and padded to the kitchen. It had been a long day, her first day back after two weeks vacation. She'd gone away to her cabin in Vermont, inherited from her parents when they passed five years before. Gabrielle just couldn't stay in her house while police were cleaning the house across the street. Her vacation had been relaxing and wonderful…but lonely. She truly wished that HE was there, with her.

Everything was different; SHE was different. For the first time in ten years, she suddenly felt free. While the rape would always be with her, knowing her rapist was caught (with a wounded foot to boot!) made it easier. Now she could go on. And she knew what she wanted: she wanted to go on with House. She knew she loved him and if he ever came back, she'd be ready and willing.

Opening the refrigerator, she rifled around, looking for anything that would make her fat, when suddenly she heard, "WHAT IN THE NAME OF #*^$ _(expletive)_ WERE YOU THINKING??? YOU COULD'VE BEEN KILLED!" Though it happened over two weeks ago, it seemed House was still angry about how Gabrielle handled the entire situation, from allowing herself to be kidnapped to shooting Leon in the foot.

Screaming, she pulled her head out of the fridge and turned around, only to find a breathlessly ANGRY doctor pointing his cane and limping to her. Regaining control of her speeding heart, she glared at him. "House, you do realize I'm a cop and you've just broken into my house. I've killed for less than that."

"Answer the question!" he growled, limping even closer. With only 4 feet between them, it was close enough for her to see the anger…and fear…in his eyes.

She shrugged. Gabrielle needed to appear blasé. After all, she knew she wanted him; she just didn't want to show it. He needed to be the one to initiate. "What do you care? And why are you here, anyway? We caught him and our business with each other is finished; we'll probably never see each other again. Do you want me to say it? Ok, it was great working with you; have a nice life; yada yada yada." Slamming the fridge door she crossed her arms in front of her, appetite suddenly gone.

House's face turned to granite as he closed the gap between them and, pushing her against the closed refrigerator, leaned his trembling body against hers. Her breath caught and she finally felt she could tell him why she did it. Her eyes conveyed the reason, better than mere words ever could.

She did it because she felt she had to prove herself to _herself_…and to House.

Dropping his cane, he sank his fingers into those curls he loved so much and, cradling her face with his palms, impatiently kissed her.

Releasing a sigh, she startled him with her reaction as her hungry lips roved over his. He groaned and ground himself against her, telling her what he wanted.

Pulling away, House simply looked at her, desperate for her to finally, breathlessly, say "YES" to him.

As if on cue, Gabrielle breathed, "YES."

House didn't second guess. Pulling her close, he kept one hand on the small of her back, the other on her cheek as he guided them to the living room, their lips never far from one another. Throwing her on the couch, he eagerly climbed atop, pinning her down. Smirking down at her, his hands went back to her hair. "It's about time."

She smiled and leaned up to lightly tongue his Adam's apple, thereby staking her claim. This only intensified his desperate grinding. Feeling the mood quickly shift to serious passion, Gabrielle began singing, "Da-da da da da-da-da da da da da-da da-da-da da."

He grinned against her chin as he asked, "What are you doing?"

"Mood music." She whispered, trailing her hand to his belt buckle as she began singing: "'Oh his lips, they will continue, to keep kissing as I'm feeling the bells of his cathedraaaaaal…' " He groaned in agony as she urgently stroked his crotch at 'bells of his cathedraaaaaal', "'I am thinking of his…'" but he didn't let her finish, grinding against her hand and urgently kissing her.

"I knew there was a reason I loved you: you're so musical," he whispered, trailing kisses down her neck and sliding lean, powerful hands under the t-shirt, pushing it up. He gasped as he cupped her breasts and excitedly lifted the shirt even higher, above her chest. As she wiggled completely out, his voice filled with awe and gratitude. "A Wonderbra! Ohhh, you are SOOO good to me."

She smiled but all she could think about was what he said. Suddenly Gabrielle pushed House away, sending him sprawling to the floor with a loud "OOF!" Quickly climbing aboard, she straddled him.

"What did you just say?"

He grinned at her breasts. "Something about a Wonderbra. I can't really remember. I'm distracted."

She grinned wider, happy she could distract him. "Before that."

House sighed impatiently. He was having a hard time keeping everything together; he wanted her so badly and she was stalling…"You're musical." Her eyebrow lifted and he sat up on his hands with her still straddling him. It was obvious he remembered what he said. "Ok, I'm not sappy and I'm hardly romantic but here it is. Elle, I love you. Period. Now take off your clothes so we can have sex. I'm about to explode."

"Yes sir."

*****

The next morning, Gabrielle awoke to find herself wrapped in House's arms. She smiled at the vivid visuals…AND sensations…from the previous night. They'd spent the entire night christening her house: from kitchen counters, floor and tabletop (she did remember something warm and chocolaty mixed in there); to shower (to wash OFF whatever warm chocolaty substance hadn't been licked off) and bathroom floor; to office desk and bedroom floor, and finally to ending up on the bed. And, as she recalled, they were loud; very, VERY loud, like make-the-neighbor's-dog-bark loud. Who knew dogs could bark for that long?

"I don't think I've ever been this tired," House moaned, pulling her closer. He'd startled her; she didn't know he was awake. "I've never had that much sex in one night. You have been repressed."

"You certainly didn't complain last night."

"I didn't feel as old last night as I do this morning." He moaned as he shifted his leg. "I think I'm gonna amputate my leg."

"You really aren't complaining, are you?" He didn't answer so Gabrielle looked up. The fatigue was evident but she certainly didn't miss the sparkle in his eyes. Before she could respond, he began singing: 'I am lying on the mattress of the woman from the precinct; I am watching as she's moving her small hand to my…' "

Giggling, she sat up and, leaning over, interrupted him with a leisurely kiss. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" His pleading eyes answered her question. She paused. "So where do we go from here?" Gabrielle ventured to ask.

He just regarded her. "Well, obviously you'll never leave now so I might as well get used to you."

Gabrielle leaned back, her eyebrow quirked. "And why do you say that?"

House grinned sleepily then held his hands up in surrender. "Elle, you've had filet mignon all night. You'll never go back to anything else."

Though he was absolutely right and she knew they were both officially off the market, she couldn't stop her eye roll, smirk and next comment: "Oh, the arrogance of man."

**THE END**


	7. Author's Note

Well, it would seem I messed up in the posting of this story. I gave you the rest of it in chapter 5. I won't change it…I'll just leave it.

Sorry about that.

So, I guess it's in 5 chapters! LOL


End file.
